Sarah Dursley and the Fiendfyre Scourge
by kakistocrat
Summary: Sarah Dursley, daughter of Dudley, is ready for an exciting first year at Hogwarts. However, a mysterious outbreak of destructive and mysterious fires and the conniving of an obsessed Head Girl may force her to disturb her bliss to save the school.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone, thank you all very much for reading my story, or at least starting. For those of you who don't know, this story is technically a sequel to my story Dudley's Dilemma, but I promise that the little bits of plot that do end up affecting this story will be summarized thoroughly. Most of the first half of that story was written before I knew what I was doing, so if you really want to you can read it, but this is as good a place to start as any.**

**So here it is, I hope you enjoy!**

Sarah Dursley bounded up the steps of the Hogwarts Express, her mind entirely bifurcated into two warring factions, one longing for a last day of childhood innocence with her parents, her older brother, just a little bit more delay, the other half already forgetting them entirely, ready to explore this new world of wizarding and magic into which she had been so unceremoniously thrust. Her agitation gave itself away in the form of an occasional odd stutter-step of excitement as she strode down the aisle of the train, attempting nonchalance. Fortunately, the density of students hid this little idiosyncrasy. Dustin, her fifth-year brother, had offered for her to sit with him as she was ascending the stairs, but she had kindly denied his offer. After all, she was going to have to make her own friends eventually, and as the compartments only seated four, bringing a little sister along probably wouldn't endear Dustin to his friends, as kind as they all seemed. No, she would find her own way.

And there it was, right in front of her. Albus Potter was surreptitiously sliding the door to his compartment closed, despite the two empty seats within. Probably hiding from his undeserved fame, and unwanted familial visits. But Sarah wasn't family; she was much too close for that. Besides, she hadn't been introduced until after Harry and Dudley had reconciled, so for Albus, she took on more of the role of a friend than a cousin-once-removed, or whatever the term technically was.

So it was with a start and a sigh of relief that Albus and Rose looked up into Sarah's face as she abruptly withdrew the door shielding the two of them from the hall.

"It's just you…" laughed Albus, reassured.

"Just me?" asked Sarah, cocking an eyebrow in mock offense.

Albus and Rose looked at each other guiltily, but Rose explained, "We were just certain that Victoire or Dominique or one of those other infinite cousins of ours would certainly come and dote on us, and honestly, I think we'll have enough attention as it is. Or at least Albus will," she corrected herself. Though Ron and Hermione were close to Harry in fame, their children had not inherited this genetic renown. There were just too many Weasleys for the public to keep track. "I think that we'd just like to have a nice quiet ride."

"Agreed," replied Sarah. "Then this seat isn't taken?"

"Well…" Albus hesitated. "James said he'd be by later, but he only takes one seat, so go for it." Rose rolled her eyes. She had never engaged in the same level of James worship as Albus. Or any level for that matter. She quickly diverted herself by diving into a pocket on the front of her suitcase.

Sarah plopped herself down in the seat next to Albus, comfortable around familial friends. "So what do you guys have planned for the train ride?"

Albus looked around, surprised he had been asked to plan ahead. "I dunno," he said. "I'm planning on loading up on sweets once the cart comes by, but until then…talk I guess. Catch up with any friends who come along."

Sarah nodded congenially. "That sounds like a good plan. Any topics in particular?" Albus looked lost, but Rose was more than prepared.

"Well," she interjected, withdrawing the searched for object from her suitcase, and spreading the huge cover story across Albus and Sarah's laps. Sarah barely had time to register a burnt-out wasteland, like an atomic crater in the middle of a city, before Rose whipped the newspaper back to stare at the story. After a moment, she paused, looked up over the edge of the paper, and asked pointedly, "What do the two of you think of the Glasgow Fiendfyre?"

"Wow," interjected Albus, "Right down to the grim and serious. No time for 'How do you do?' or 'How were your holidays?'"

Rose scowled, pure danger glinting in her eye. "I only ask because I know that Sarah has had experience with Fiendfyre before, correct?"

Sarah nodded, an odd stirring inside her gut at the image of destruction now being folded and thrust back into Rose's bag. "Yeah," she confirmed warily. "But I don't remember much of it." She shook herself, as if trying to ward off a chill. It was true that she didn't remember much of that day, though what she did remember had blended into years of nightmares, homogenizing the entire mixture into a grimy blend of invention and reality.

The facts of that night were simple, though the remembered experience had been distorted through the years. She and her parents had been kidnapped by a mad rogue witch, or pair of witches, though one remained undiscovered even now, in order to get at Albus's dad, Harry. As Dudley and Harry had recently reunited and repaired a formerly dysfunctional relationship, and because of the irresistible blood ties between them, Harry was certain to come to the Dursley's aid. After all, even without the reconcilement, they were the only surviving memory that his mother had ever lived.

However, the witches plan had failed to account for Sarah, who had, through accidental use of underage magic, slipped through their magical bondage and by no more than luck and coincidence, released her parents as well. The three of them made their way through the booby-trapped house to the front lawn, where the only witch of the pair to reveal herself, Brista Fang, was single-handedly resisting the siege of dozens of Aurors. Fortunately, at just the moment she was about to strike the killing blow against the squad, she offered to Harry a bargain: the lives of the Dursleys and everyone in his squad in exchange for his own. She ranted madly about the fate of the purebloods, but these were generally dismissed as rather uncreative lunacy. Fortunately, this had given Dudley time to get behind her, and disable her with a swift blow to the face. During the engagement however, her wand had snapped, releasing a torrent of Fiendfyre that rapidly engulfed the house, in which Sarah was still waiting.

However, due to the inexplicable protection of underage magic and speedy action by her father, she was able to escape the house unharmed. That was really all she knew of the night, and about all that anyone did. Brista Fang escaped with some creative use of the Polyjuice Potion, and the other unidentified witch had never been seen by anyone but the Dursleys. The Fiendfyre had destroyed all the evidence, and the slim threads Aurors were left to pick at led no where. So, with a few years of subtle ministry protection, the Dursleys were declared safe and the file was closed, save an outdated warrant for the arrest of Brista Fang.

"So…" prompted Rose expectantly. Sarah didn't respond, she was still stuck in a mire of thought. "Nothing?" completed Rose.

Sarah shook her head. "Sorry," she replied. "Harry might be a better source, at least he remembers it."

Rose sighted melodramatically. "I've already asked him, but he just feigned ignorance. There's an Auror investigation into the matter right now, so he's not allowed to talk about it."

"What a drag," replied Sarah sardonically, but Rose seemed to take it for sincerity.

"I know, isn't it? We're only kids, what could he expect us to do for a little information?"

"Well he did managed to protect the Philosopher's Stone from Voldemort at our age, so probably quite a bit," reminded Albus.

"Yes, but if we go by the scale of what our parents accomplished at our ages, they wouldn't be letting us out of the house. The world is simply much safer now." Sarah shrugged. She wasn't entirely sure she agreed, but knew better than to argue with Rose.

Albus was gazing out the window sleepily, watching the countryside gallop past, fading greenery becoming an organic blur of browns and more vibrant patches. "I have a question," posed Sarah. "Does anyone know where Hogwarts actually is?"

"Oh no, of course not," replied Rose matter-of-factly. "And don't try to figure it out. It took years for people to even ascertain it was in Scotland, because the harder you try to figure it out, the more nonsensical the evidence becomes. There's a list of confirmed facts in _Hogwarts: A History_ but none of them point to any certain conclusions."

"Hmm…" replied Sarah, interested. "I guess mysteries are just part of magic. Seems to me that it would drive me mad, if I were really interested in that kind of stuff."

Rose nodded. "There are more than a few whom it has. But I guess most wizards and witches just learn to—" but before she could finish her thought, the door slammed open with a violence far exceeding any practical measure of necessity for opening such a well oiled door. Sarah jumped at the crash, but kept her calm, as did Albus, which was fortunate, because standing behind the door was Scorpius Malfoy, and two cronies.

Scorpius looked so like his father it was almost unremarkable, as if the same person had merely been given the unfortunate gift of a dual adolescence. If she tried to pick out a difference, perhaps she would say that his nose was a little narrower, his scowl a little less sure of itself, and his arrogance a little less omnipresent. He was just Draco in a world where his family had nothing but a large fortune, instead of favor in the Ministry. Behind him were two goons, one clearly a young Goyle, huge, broad, dense power, nearly shaved head, features hidden under rolls of flesh, like a bloodhound. An oafish, but surprisingly friendly grin was spread across his face. The other one was taller, though he was probably barely above Sarah's height, and had the strange look of an anemic man who had taken up body-building. His muscles were impressive, but they looked all wrong on his frame, as if some Dr. Frankenstein had sown them on, not caring to attach them to a specimen ready to receive them.

"Potter," hissed Malfoy.

"Malfoy," replied Albus nonchalantly. "I see you found a replacement for Crabbe. Does this one know what happened to the last one?"

"I'd prefer you didn't mock my father's dead friends," barked Scorpius. "And yes, this is Cato." Cato flexed his muscles threateningly, though it ended up looking odd, like a poorly made mannequin's awkward movements.

Albus looked to be on the verge of reminding Scorpius that his father's "friend" Crabbe had been an insubordinate killer, almost destroying Malfoy himself in his carelessness. But Albus thought better of it and simply stated, "I take it you didn't just come down here to chat. Anything in particular you would like to address."

"No," spat Scorpius. "I mean yes, there is something particular, no I didn't just come to chat…" he caught himself, realizing he was bumbling like a fool through his speech.

"What I've come to say is this Potter, so clean out your ears, I don't want to have to repeat myself." He attempted to regain his angle of derision. "I don't want to have anything to do with you, ever, the entire time we're at Hogwarts. I just wanted to clear that up now, so that you don't forget and go trying to stick your skinny little nose where it doesn't belong." Sarah looked over at Albus. He seemed not to be reacting, though she could detect that only his superior position in regards to their history was helping him keep his anger in check, though he seemed to almost laugh at the skinny nose remark, especially coming from Scorpius. "There's far too much history between our fathers for us to ever be friends, or true enemies, so I don't think we need to burden ourselves with an already loaded relationship." Albus nodded, though his face was scowling. It was a sensible proposal. "I'm not saying we should, how do they say it, 'Bury the hatchet,' but let's just ignore it. Leave it to people with nothing better to do."

Albus considered Malfoy's offer. "Fine," he stated calmly. "I've got better things to do than teach another sniveling bully a lesson." Malfoy's fists clenched, and Cato's eyes flashed dangerously, but the insult went otherwise unnoticed.

Malfoy seemed unaccustomed to being slurred, for his mouth worked furiously for a few seconds, like a caught fish trying to communicate with its captors. Finally, he settled on a response. "And I've got better things to do than humble the arrogant, undeserving brat of some long-forgotten celebrity."

Albus bit his tongue, and Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her seat, ready to jump up between them should a brawl erupt. The combined genetic tempers of Harry and Ginny were not the kindest thing to Albus's emotions, and Sarah prayed silently that he could reign in his tongue. Scorpius looked cool and confident that his insult had met its mark, till Albus quipped: "Well? What are you waiting for? If you're still trying to catch a glimmer of attention it won't work."

Scorpius's thin nostrils flared. He looked furious at himself that he hadn't left with the last word, and let Potter get in a final jibe. But it was clearly a dismissal, and even Scorpius wasn't fool enough to pick a fight before school had even begun, so he turned curtly on his heel and marched away. Cato followed him closely, as Goyle closed the door, waving strangely affably as he did so.

Once their shapes had vanished through the misted glass, Albus sighed, slumping forward, elbows on his knees and rubbed his temples. "God, I hope he was serious about ignoring me," he spat. "He's just one more thing I don't want to deal with."

Rose nodded sympathetically. "It's true. Nastiness seems to just be genetic in that family. At least they don't have a leader to attach themselves to anymore."

"Doesn't mean they can't be bloody annoying," muttered Albus.

"Yeah," agreed Sarah quietly, then musing: "I wonder if Cato is a first or a last name."

Rose considered the question seriously. "Historically, it has been a first, and not associated with the most benevolent of people. But Malfoy does seem to have a penchant for last names, so it really could be either." She furrowed her brow in thought. "He seemed like a nasty piece of work. Just an awkward weakling trying to make a name for himself in entirely the wrong way."

"He certainly did seem to be overcompensating," added Sarah. "Goyle seemed positively friendly compared to him. Though Goyle almost seemed friendly by himself, whatever that means."

"I believe that was simply the influence of his mother," informed Rose. "Gregory Goyle went to Azkaban years ago, trying to start some kind of wizarding mafia. It failed spectacularly, but left his wife, who he chose only for her blood, and his son alone. So who knows? Perhaps this young Goyle is a kind soul deep down inside."

"Yeah," interjected Albus, "and maybe I'm part goblin, way back in my family tree." Sarah laughed softly, and Rose smothered a reluctant smile.

There was a comfortable pause as they settled in for the journey, but soon Sarah found herself wanting conversation. "So tell me about this Glasgow Fiendfyre," she asked kindly, humoring Rose.

Once again, Rose withdrew the paper from her bag, as if to cite it for evidence, though it seemed to Sarah that she had already memorized all her points. "Well," she started, "It's simple enough in the facts of the matter. A few nights ago, a little after midnight, Muggle firefighters responded to a call for a very severe fire. Five-alarm and all that, worst the city had seen in ages. The firefighters arrived, and tried to evacuate people, but they were taking a beating. Water did nothing, and even all those fancy chemicals they use seemed only to stymie the flames. As it happens, the ministry implants a wizard in almost every major city's emergency centers, just in case anything funny happens, and this wizard began to suspect that this wasn't any ordinary fire. It took him a while to figure out, but you can hardly blame him, Fiendfyre is the kind of dangerous stuff that no one has really seen since, well…" she struggled for the appropriate mixture of exaggeration and truth. "…probably the Middle Ages." She nodded, satisfied at her placement.

"Anyway, he managed to get some Magical Emergency Disaster Crew on the scene, and they could control it until the Ministry showed up with real firepower," she paused for a moment. "Pardon the pun, I assure you it was unintentional." It took Sarah a moment to even realize there had been one.

"So what happened in the end?" asked Albus. It was nice to see that she was not the only one clueless to wizarding news.

Rose just flashed the picture of the gutted city block. "They extinguished it eventually, but not after…well this." She motioned to the destruction.

There was a silence for a moment as Sarah examined the picture. The paper was black and white, but Sarah doubted it would have appeared much different even in color. Dismayed and awestruck residents picked through the ashen remains of their homes, some begging for mercy from the reader, gesticulating wildly, others…just sitting. The ash seemed to be rising from the ground to absorb them into itself. Sarah wondered if even the charred remnants, the very ash was imbued with a malevolent spirit of destruction, the way it seemed to clog the scene, an almost spiritual dominance of the destroyed block.

"So?" asked Albus. At first Sarah was a little disgusted at his lack of sympathy, until she realized he was merely prompting Rose to continue. One thing that Rose had not yet learned was how to conceal when she wanted to say something. Her internal arguments seemed to be inscribed upon her face.

"Well, I just think that it's perhaps a bit odder than most people notice. Have you heard of the Irish wildfires?" Albus and Rose shook their heads. "No, they haven't been covered much in the news, they've never gotten enough fuel to get out of control, but nonetheless, Muggle authorities have been having an unusually difficult time extinguishing them. Rather odd, wouldn't you say, especially considering the wet season we've had this year? And I hardly need remind you that Ireland is hardly dry and woody at the best of times. Wildfires have almost never been a problem historically, and now, this year, there are large and unusual fires in the wilderness, and in cities?"

"So you think it's the same person?" inferred Albus, a little more intrigued than he had been previously.

"Yes." Rose looked rather smug, basking in the warmth of her discovery. "I think some wizard…"

"Or witch," interrupted Albus.

"Yes, or witch…" added Rose, exasperated. "Has been starting these fires. I can't tell their motive though. It seems that if they were just some sort of terrorist, they'd start in the cities first, before revealing their modus operandi out in the country side."

Albus looked confused, and Sarah hid behind it. "I'm not sure either of us understands," she stated, hoping for clarification.

"It just seems to me that if this wizard…or witch!" she added, raising a threatening finger to silence Albus's correction, "wanted to cause destruction, they wouldn't go about warning everyone that they knew how to make Fiendfyre, and were willing to do it, by spreading it around in the wilderness before they attacked the city."

"Maybe they needed practice?" suggested Sarah.

"Possibly," mused Rose, "But it seems that with a spell like Fiendfyre, practice would be unnecessary. Once you had it down, you would most certainly know, and the destruction would be accomplished, so your only concern would be getting away."

Albus sat up, ready to contribute. "So you're thinking this vandal…" Rose scoffed at his choice of words. "What?" asked Albus.

"Calling a person capable of using Fiendfyre to achieve their destructive desires a vandal is like calling…Oh I don't know, Voldemort a rabble-rouser."

Albus frowned. "Is Fiendfyre that serious?"

"Yes," insisted Rose firmly. "Until recently, the Ministry had it declared as a dead spell, that is a spell with its incantation lost. Apparently they were wrong, and now it has been moved up to a pier of illegality just below the Unforgivables."

"Wow," marveled Sarah. "So this isn't some punk kid messing with the system, this is…"

"Someone with knowledge. Someone with the power to use such a dangerous weapon, and the madness to do it, someone…" But once again, she was interrupted by a rap on the door, though this one was gentle and faint.

Sarah glanced around at Albus and Rose, but Albus just shrugged. The only visitor they were expecting was James, and a quiet tapping was not exactly his style. Sarah slid open the door to reveal a slightly nervous and distraught blonde girl, though that was hardly doing her justice. Even at eleven, Sarah could tell that this girl was stunningly beautiful, and would continue to be so. Her face was pale, but not sickly, as a tint of color splashed along her cheeks. Her hair was a golden yellow, not the silvery blonde that adorned the heads of some of their part-Veela cousins, but sunny, bright, and healthy, drier than Malfoy's, and not greasy, but without losing any of its splendor. It was very straight, a little past shoulder length, pushed behind her ears. Even as she opened the door, the girl was relegating some more that had fallen from her bangs to behind her ears, perhaps a kind of nervous tic, pushing her hair back. Her cheeks were full and round, though by no means anything but healthy, merely hiding any sharp lines her bones might impose on her smooth face. It was a slightly different, unconventional kind of beauty, but even now, Sarah could tell, this girl was a looker.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she started, her voice a low alto, corresponding to her above average height, "But the witch with the food cart is coming down the aisle, and she needs everyone to be in a seat."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Albus, rubbing his hands together, ignoring the girl in favor of her message. "I was getting hungry." The girl at the door bit her lip nervously, and pushed a few stray strands of hair back. She looked a little anxious, thought Sarah. She was probably a first year as well.

"And…all the other compartments are full," she clarified. "I was wondering if I could have this seat, at least until the food cart comes by."

Albus's face drooped a little. "Well…James said he would be by later on, and he probably would want a seat, but…" Sarah mentally kicked him. Eleven year old boys.

"Oh, don't worry about him, sit down," interrupted Sarah. And, as the girl slid into the seat across from her, she whispered into Albus's ear, patting his knee, "You'll thank me in a few years." Albus just looked perturbed.

"Besides," added Rose, "I was actually planning on leaving soon, visiting another compartment myself, though not of course, before introductions," she inserted tactfully. "Rose Weasley, I'm a first year, so I don't have a house yet."

"Albus, same as her, first year,"

"Sarah Dursley, and yeah,"

The girl smiled sociably, yet timidly as they introduced themselves, and completed the foursome. "Aurora Zyther, but you can call me Rory, most people do."

"Well, Aurora, it was lovely to meet you, but I actually have one more matter of business I would like to settle," said Rose.

"Business?" asked Albus, cocking his eyebrow. "We're not even to the school yet and you're already at business? Not even schooling?"

"Yes," hissed Rose. "Business." She smoothed her skirt professionally. None of them had changed into robes yet, so it was a little easier to imagine them at some kind of important Muggle financial meeting. "Now, I don't want you to misinterpret my desires here, but I simply feel like it would benefit all three of us if we made some friends outside of our direct family. Not that you aren't all lovely people," she assuaged gently, "but it just seems to me that it would be desirable to break down any clan mentality that might be forming among older Weasleys. You've already heard all the jokes about the family taking over the school I'm sure, and it just seems favorable to me that we disperse ourselves a bit. Do you follow my logic?"

Albus considered her for a moment. "I don't know…" he said. "I get what you're saying, but it's not like I spend all my time with my family. And Sarah's only technically family anyways."

"True," added Sarah, "but in a few years it might be nice for you to have a few female friends who aren't related to you. Just a thought."

Albus shrugged. "I suppose, if you're determined to find your own group, I can't stop you. I think I'll still be hanging out with Sarah though, right?"

Sarah smiled, flattered at his invitation. "Yes, quite," and looking across the aisle, she added, "and Rory too of course."

"Sure, why not?" asked Albus, craning his neck, trying to find the perfect niche in the headrest. He looked very catlike for an absurd moment.

"I believe I saw another group of first year girls with an open seat near the back of the train," said Rose, addressing no one in particular as she repacked the few objects she had removed from her sack. "I'll go see if there's anyone there remotely interesting. And this way it'll leave plenty of room open for your precious visit from…"

"James?" came a suave voice from the door, which had crept open without any of them noticing. Sarah and Rory jumped in their seats, but Rose just sighed.

"Honestly, we should put a lock on that thing."

"And keep me out? Certainly that's not what you meant." He looked pitifully over at Sarah, his lower lip slightly jutting out in a rude impression of simpering.

Sarah considered for a moment, and then replied. "Oh yes, most definitely. I'll be sure to bring one next time."

James just laughed off the insult, and swung himself recklessly around to cram between a rather surprised Rory and a rather irritated Rose. "By the way, 'Et tu, Albe?' I thought I told you to save me a seat. Not that I mind smashing between such lovely ladies," he added as an afterthought, calmly justifying his remark.

"One of whom is your cousin and the other is a complete stranger," reminded Rose, getting to her feet.

"Well, I can fix half those problems in a heartbeat," he shot back, and extended his hand to Rory. "James Potter,"

"Rory Zyther."

James looked back at Rose, shrugged winningly, and stated, "Easy." Rose just rolled her eyes, and groaned loudly, getting to her feet. "Rough name by the way," he added sympathetically, patting Rory's hand.

"Why?"

"For the Sorting I mean. Almost definitely last to go alphabetically, the novelty has worn off, hundreds of students waiting impatiently for food…No pressure," he added as she blanched.

Rose saved her from more unpleasant prophecy. "Well, I'm off to a compartment of eleven year old girls, probably to talk about make-up, and boys, and self-deprecate in exchange for social status. Simply fascinating." She spoke as venomously as if one of them had suggested it, instead of herself. Sarah wondered how long any female with Granger blood would be sufficient to skim along the shallow surface of life.

"Ah, the curse of womankind," remarked James drily. "To be a dozen fold the greatness of man and to think themselves the half part." He stretched lazily, very satisfied in his witticism.

"I don't think that's true," replied Sarah casually. She wasn't offended by his jab, but he had certainly left himself open for a riposte.

"And where do I err in my presumption?" asked James lazily, wafting the question like a scented candle through the narrow box.

"I know I'm better than you is all," she countered. "So I guess you were right about the first half." Rose snickered, even thus far quiet Rory allowed a smile to color her cheeks.

"Well," started James, clearly not knowing quite how to finish, "To be fair…I did specify womankind."

"Oh," laughed Sarah, now fully engaged in the battle, "So if you can't beat me with false witticisms you resort to straight out gender insults? A little below the caliber of debate, don't you think?"

"I take my victories where I find them," scoffed James, affronted that Sarah had even expected there to be any kind of rules in this game. "A man unwilling to claim an unorthodox victory will more often than not find himself…OUCH!" He exclaimed, as Sarah pounded his arm with her fist. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just taking my victories where I find them, however unorthodox they may be," laughed Sarah, swinging her fist again, though allowing him to dodge and deflect the blow.

"Scoundrel!" exclaimed James, but Albus was cracking up, his seat barely containing his mirth. Rory was laughing along too, but Rose was smashed between James and the wall, and was not finding it quite as amusing.

"Okay, okay!" she exclaimed. "I'm getting out of here before someone gets hurt, or in trouble." She leapt to her feet, grabbed her bag and hop-skipped over the various legs in her way to the door, followed closely by James.

"Rouge!" he cried, still shielding his body from imaginary blows. "Black-hearted, lily-livered…"

"Who's the one retreating?" probed Sarah, making a feint with her shoulders, causing James to jump back against the door, leaving it rattling like an angry bee in a tin cup.

James regained his composure and sniffed regally. "I take my leave, before this maiden can further soil my honor!" He swept out of the cart with the dignity of deposed king.

Albus took a few minutes to recompose himself, still chuckling as he congratulated Sarah on a well-fought mental and occasionally physical duel. "I normally side with James on these things," he explained, "but that's only because he's often the underdog, because of age. It was nice to see him take a beating."

"Where does he get that stuff?" asked Rory, her first real contribution to the conversation. "Does he read lots of Shakespeare? Or Wilde?"

Albus paused to consider. "I think he used to. Or at least, he would read about it. There have always been lots of jokesters in my family, immediate and extended, and I think he wanted a personal flair, his own style."

"Well he certainly has that," laughed Sarah. "I wouldn't touch it with a pole the length of this train." But her continuation was interrupted by the rumble of cartwheels and a tap at the door.

"Oh boy!" exclaimed Albus, his face resetting as if the entire day prior had vanished in the face of this new development. "Snacks!"

**Alright everyone, tell me what you think! I'm open to suggestions, and the next chapter will be up one week from today.**


	2. Chapter 2

It has been said that an acquaintance that starts with a compliment is sure to develop into a true friendship. Though perhaps occasionally true, a much more certain way to change acquaintance into mutual congeniality, is by beginning it with a meal. And, though to an ordinary person, mounds of wizarding candy would be regarded as less of a meal an more of a biohazard, to three entertainment-lacking eleven year olds, it became their lunch feast.

And this meal provided not only sustenance, but also entertainment. Though of course all the classics were present and readily available, Bertie Bott's, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, the candy companies had also replicated the fun and adventure of many of their treats in new and very different forms. For instance, there were Sour Seeds, about the size of poppy seeds, electric yellow, and sold in little bottles that looked almost like prescriptions. They even had a recommended dosage, of no more than ten per hour. Considering it also listed that there were three thousand of the tiny treats in the bottle, it was evidently made to be shared, or last quite a while.

With some trepidation, but a hearty dose of Potter and Weasley headstrong bravado, Albus popped a seed into his mouth, and shuddered, his entire face contracting as if someone had attached a huge glass vacuum right to his nose, and the rest of his face was being dragged along.

"So?" asked Sarah, when his face finally slackened.

"I think there's a hole in my tongue!" exclaimed Albus, probing it with his fingers. He was however, disappointed, or perhaps relieved. It was difficult to tell. But then, after a moment of wallowing in his self-inflicted pain, he reached for the bottle again. "I want another."

"Bet you can't do two at once," challenged Sarah

"I will if you will," shot Albus.

"Fine."

And so they sat, staring at each other like hungry dogs with a slice of meat between them, contemplating the two yellow dots in their hands.

"Ready?" asked Albus.

Sarah nodded, and they synchronously raised their hands to their mouths and popped the seeds in. Afterwards, Sarah could only describe an intense longing for water, and a feeling like her entire head was imploding to a little black hole positioned in her mouth. And yet, she understood Albus's desire for more. It was such a strange, powerful sensation that she couldn't help but be addicted. However, two at once seemed to curb even Albus's appetite. Rory just laughed at them, and before anyone could comment or warn her, popped four into her mouth at once. She was silent for a long time after that.

After their experience with the seeds, the three of them decided to stick to safer meadows, and spent a little while reading Chocolate Frog cards, or sampling the more appealing colors of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Growing up in a family of wizards, Albus had developed a fairly good sense of which were tasty and which were toxic, especially after being fed so many lint-flavored beans by his brother. The only error in his judgment was what he thought was a coconut flavored bean, and turned out to be durian, a tropical fruit with a taste like, as he described it, "Sugary vomit".

The strangest flavor Sarah got was Bubblegum-Pineapple, which felt like someone at the candy factory had gone mad, and served up straight sweetener, but it did leave a nice tingling aftertaste.

The other notable new candy, which once again took a little bit of courage to build up to, was called Cherry Bombs, and looked much like red cough drops. However, as Albus explained, they were liable to explode at any time after you put them in your mouth. Not damaging obviously, just like a little punch, like biting into a hard-boiled egg that has been in the microwave not quite long enough to explode, but certainly long enough to build up pressure. Of course, he reminded, as if it were common knowledge, this could happen anywhere in the digestion process as well. After a few minutes you were supposed to swallow them, and wait for a little popping in your throat, or your stomach, or, he had even heard of ones that had survived intact all the way to the intestine. As far as he knew, none had made it past there.

So, entering a solemn pact to tell each other when their candy exploded, and to care for the other's friends and family should it kill them, Albus, Rory, and Sarah popped one Cherry Bomb apiece into their mouths. Albus jumped out of his seat almost immediately. His had evidently been on a short fuse. For Sarah and Rory though, they waited much longer. Sarah couldn't help but feeling like she was somehow playing a very odd game of hot potato, maybe like pass the dynamite, or something similar, though in the end they were both doomed to explosion. They both ended up swallowing their little pills in the end, much to Albus's amusement.

After that, they moved onto Foaming Whizbees, much like the Fizzing variety, but these ones, when ingested, produced so much sugary foam that Sarah had to swallow rapidly to avoid it bursting out of her nose. It was a most curious sensation.

"I think I'm getting a sugar high!" exclaimed Rory, once the influence of the seeds had faded, allowing her to speak.

"You know that's not real," replied Sarah, feeling very much like Rose. "It's all the placebo effect."

"Yeah, I think I knew that," replied Rory. But she leaned forward conspiratorially, and held a finger to her lips. "But don't tell my brain. It thinks it's getting free energy." She winked and tapped a finger on her temple.

But, inevitably, like plaque in an artery, sweetness built up in their mouths, seeming to smother their taste-buds, leaving the candy tasteless. "Besides," reminded Albus, as he finally decided to stow the rest of his loot, "We do want to be hungry again for the feast."

The sweets exhausted, or at least their taste for them, the three of them lapsed into easy, comfortable conversation. None of them were really the kind of personality to dominate and monopolize, so all three contributed equally. Albus and Sarah had by coincidence not seen each other for several months, and obviously neither of them had seen Rory at all, so they had quite a bit of catching up to do.

Rory was friendly and entertaining if not exactly effusive, she rarely soliloquized or told anecdotes about her past, but she was clever and fit naturally into the conversation. She was more like one of those children's connecting bricks than a missing puzzle piece, because Albus and Sarah probably could have sustained an entertaining conversation by themselves, but Rory's assistance made it that much easier.

As the conversation, like the light outside, began to wane, Albus revealed a deck of cards from under his cloak, and offered to deal them in for a game. Sarah reminded the two of them that they did need to change into their cloaks before the end of the ride, but that a game would be lovely afterwards. So in a few minutes, newly-robed Albus was dealing cards to the two of them and explaining the rules to a fast-paced slapping game Sarah had never even heard referenced. The wizarding cards were slightly different from playing cards Sarah was familiar with, and all of the games were new and strange, but simple and light-hearted, relying on luck more than skill, so she picked them up quickly.

After an hour or so, Rory volunteered to teach them one of her favorite card games, called Duke's Intrigue, to which they agreed. Her game was much more ruthless, strategic, and brutal than any Albus had shown. It was all about ganging up on one player to destroy their hand of cards, then backstabbing your teammate at exactly the right moment. Eventually, Albus became proficient in taking down the initial opponent, but never quite grasped when to betray his partner. Sarah never progressed past remembering which card to play, and usually watched with some amusement as she was swiftly taken down by Albus and Rory's devious maneuvers. Of course, she wasn't bitter about it, because she knew that inevitably, Albus would soon join her in elimination. Rory was simply too good.

"All right," sighed Albus, laying down his last few cards as he was defeated in an almost identical fashion for the fourth time in a row, and probably tenth or twelfth overall. "I think I've had it with this game. Now I've over thought it and I'm not going to get anywhere."

"You were beginning to get it by the end," encouraged Rory, her face so sincere that Sarah almost believed it was something other than consolation. Albus had almost certainly not progressed since the first few games.

"Yeah, yeah," said Albus, waving his hand dismissively. "I've got all year to build up enough skill to beat you, and if the cards go my way just one time…"

Rory laughed. She did not look like she believed in luck in this game. "We can try again anytime you want."

"Tomorrow," replied Albus quickly, Weasley competitive spirit flaring up.

"Certainly. Well…" she trailed off, her good spirits fading like water through a sieve.

"Well, what?" asked Sarah, detecting a dilemma.

Rory sighed and shook her head. "It's just not likely that the three of us are going to spending much time together after today. I mean, I guess I did just meet you today, so I shouldn't be that distraught, but…"

"No, no," interrupted Albus quickly. "I think we've become friends, you have some right to be disturbed." Surprising tact, thought Sarah, somewhat impressed.

Rory smiled, not just superficially, but as if the simple assertion meant something deeper to her. "Thanks, it's just a shame that we're probably not going to see each other except at meal times, and free time when we don't have work for classes, and we have time to go to an area common to all houses, not just the common rooms of our houses.

Albus frowned. "I guess it's true, Hogwarts does seem to almost encourage divisions between the houses. Not that I could think of a better system, but other than classes, where there's always a controlling adult, contact is really minimal." There was a melancholy pause.

Sarah broke the silence, hoping maybe to lighten the mood. "So where do you think you're headed, Rory? Any guesses?"

"Slytherin." She slumped back lugubriously.

"Wow, that certain?" asked Sarah.

"Well I'm pure-blood, wish I weren't, and my whole family has gone there."

"Maybe I will see you there then," moaned Albus dismally. Sarah let out an angry 'humph!'. She had been hearing this from Albus whenever the subject of sorting had come up, and she was a little fed up.

"Albus, I've told you a hundred times, you're not going to Slytherin. Not that there's anything wrong with that," she amended quickly, directing her comment to Rory, who just shrugged, looking depressed.

"But James says…"

"James can go boil his head, he ended up in Gryffindor without a second thought, and you're his brother."

"But my initials are a kind of snake! If that's not…"

"You really think that the Sorting Hat cares about your initials? You think that your parents chose your names because of a random anagram, not because of a deep respect for the people who bore them?"

"But coincidences in magic are often…"

"Just like coincidences everywhere else," completed Sarah with an unmoving finality. "Sometimes signs of a higher power arranging things, but more often than not just stupid little errors."

Albus sighed. He clearly wasn't convinced, but didn't want the Pyrrhic victory he might be able to glean from fighting. "Honestly, Albus, if your father could make it into Gryffindor with a piece of Voldemort's soul hitching a ride…"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" There was a tense silence; the first one they had had this ride.

Rory coughed uncomfortably, but volunteered herself as martyr to restart conversation. "So where are you headed, Sarah?"

"Hufflepuff," she replied with a cool-headed determinism.

"How are you so sure of that?" asked Albus mockingly. "You might be headed to Ravenclaw, with those oh so infallible arguments of yours, or Gryffindor with…"

"It's true I might," disrupted Sarah calmly. "And I have no problem with that. I just think that at this point it's probably best to look at the facts, both in family and in personality, and judge based on them to where I'm headed." She raised an eyebrow at Albus. "You can't upset me, you know." Albus shook his head angrily.

"Well you are very friendly," added Rory encouragingly.

Albus was pouting over his defeat, head against the window, so it was up to Sarah to keep herself entertained. "So why do you think Slytherin? Other than the family, and the pureblood status. You know that they've been backing away from that facet of their history ever since Voldemort took it way too far."

"Yeah, I know," she replied, looking wistful and far away. "But it's not just that. The other quality they prize is ambition, and my family has that in spades."

"Really?" asked Sarah intrigued. "Have any of them gotten anywhere?"

Rory pushed her hair back nervously, considering the question. "Not in recent years, like most pureblood families, mine has been dwindling for a while, needs an infusion of new blood…not that there's any inbreeding or anything," she added quickly, horrified by her own implications. "That only goes on in the really mental families. There just aren't that many descendents left is all."

"So unfulfilled ambition in your family is what you're saying."

"Well, not all of it. Back in the Middle Ages there were some really ruthless kings that were just puppets for my ancestors. Ever read Macbeth?" Sarah admitted she had not. "Well one of those witches is my hundred times great grandmother. Not that I'm proud of it, things didn't turn out so well for him, but it was really his fault."

"I'm sure it was," sympathized Sarah. "There's no need to apologize for your ancestor's manipulations." An unpleasant image of her father as a fat bully popped into her head, but she smothered it quickly with memories of her father now. "But are you ambitious? The whole thing about families is only true as long as everyone in it is similar."

"Yeah," added Albus, bursting suddenly from his funk. "My dad told me a story about his godfather, who was in Gryffindor after generations of Slytherin."

Rory considered the two of them for a moment, then pushing her hair back behind her ears, she admitted, "Well…it's not just my family. Sometimes…I hear about all these things going on in the world, you know, dumb Muggle politicians, or ignorant Ministry campaigns, or wars in other countries, or even from our own country and I just think…just think…" She trailed off searching for the phrase. "I could do better," she stated with an unforgiving finality. "If I were in their place, I mean. I feel like all I need to do to solve all of my problems, and everyone else's, is just get a little power, and exercise it in the right ways, and everything would be fixed."

Sarah bit her tongue in thought. Albus looked a little uncomfortable. Rory looked at them, suddenly desperate for gratification, some sign that she wasn't crazy. "I'm sure it's true…" suggested Sarah kindly, though with misgivings. "It's just…well…you have to be really, really careful on that path. Even with the right motives. Because once you start claiming that individual evils are 'For the Greater Good' or that the ends justify the means…"

"Yes, I know, I know," burst out Rory, suddenly beginning to look timid again. "And I don't want these impulses; they just…come to me. I guess it's genetic, but I'm ashamed of them, and…"

"Well there's no need to be ashamed," eased Sarah quickly. "Just…well…careful I guess."

Rory nodded. "I know. I do my best. But still, sounds like Slytherin to me, doesn't it?" Sarah had to agree that it did.

"Who knows?" said Albus hopefully. "Maybe some of your other traits outweigh your ambition. You could end up anywhere!" Rory smiled, unbelieving, but grateful for the solicitude.

The three of them fell to silent thoughts for a little while, but were soon disturbed. Sarah had been on some fairly sleek, modern trains in her time, where the ride was so smooth that, without the assistance of windows, it was difficult to tell whether the train was rocketing along or stopped altogether. The Hogwarts Express was not one of these trains. Their deceleration began with a massive lurch that almost dropped Sarah's bags from above onto her head, and was marked by many similar movements in the subsequent minutes. Eventually, Sarah decided to stand on her seat, so as to hold her luggage as well as Albus's.

It had been easy to forget their destination in the cordial, low-stress, and slightly monotonous train ride, but as the factual part of her brain and the interpretive part of her brain connected to create the realization that Hogwarts itself lay just beyond those train doors, she felt a 'whump' in her stomach, built up excitement that had been packaged into the too-tight suitcase of her subconscious for the duration of the ride. Or maybe it was just the cherry bomb, finally detonated. She probed her mouth with her tongue. No, no recurring cherry flavor. It was definitely the excitement.

The doors to the compartments slid open of their own accord, and before Sarah could retrieve her luggage, the aisle was swarming with students like ants on dropped food. Sarah suddenly remember that despite the intimacy of the train car, the train as a whole was mobbed with people, and that she had a lot of new faces to memorize.

Sighing, she bludgeoned her way through the crowd with all the force in her eleven year old body, stumbling onto the platform as if she had been expelled by a geyser. She realized that she had lost Albus and Rory somewhere in the rush, but Rory's bright yellow hair was easily visible in the sea of black robes.

Albus was a little bit more difficult to locate, but eventually Sarah succeeded in plunging her hand shoulder deep into the throng and yanking him out, looking very much like a drunk man pulled out of a bath of icy water. She hadn't remembered this part ever being described to her, though it was likely that as they got older and larger, the stresses placed on their younger selves would seem less severe. After all, the seventh-years, seeming to tower above Sarah and Albus, seemed hardly to notice those below their head-level.

The confusion was alleviated, at least for the very young by the booming call of "Firs' years! Firs' years over 'ere!" Even from their much lower perspective, the grizzled, kindly face of Hagrid could be seen towering over the crowd, his lantern, approximately the size of a campfire, serving as a beacon for the new and befuddled. Sarah had never seen Hagrid in person, but she had seen pictures of him from the time of the Order of the Phoenix. Even despite his giant blood, age was beginning to tell on him. His beard was mostly a messy grayish-white, making the detritus of leaves and dirt and other natural material that had always been present stand out much more apparently. His weight seemed also to have shifted from a muscular chest and shoulders to a more placid gut, jutting forward just a little bit. But besides the physical changes, he was just as she imagined him, his uncouth manners and beaming face symbolizing the warm, friendly side of Hogwarts, the one that welcomed before any rules or regulations were laid down.

Unfortunately, that was not the side that Sarah was first to see. As she tried to forge her way through the crowd, holding closely to Rory, with Albus behind, she was buffeted in every direction as if she were in a violent mob. She had always felt tall for her age, but she now was reminding herself that relatively tall is not the same as absolutely tall. She had almost made it out of the thick, when the unlucky push of some large, blundering fifth-year sent her sprawling forward. No longer able to rely on the sheer mass of people to keep her standing, she almost fell, pitching forward with Rory, only able to arrest her tumble by grabbing at the robes of someone in front of her. But even as she stopped, she heard a loud rip, and the pocket of the robes she had grab was wrenched entirely from the garment, sending a cascade of what looked like tiny brown rocks skittering in every direction. Sarah felt as if a huge weight had been dropped down her throat, the feeling of impending doom and blame smashing through her insides like a loose Bludger.

The tall owner of the robes turned, slowly, contemplatively. It was a girl, much older than them, beautiful, high features, like a mythical forest elf. Imprinted on her face was the wicked, terrible grin of splenetic malice that only accompanies the power to act on such desires. Across her breast were stitched the words, "Slytherin – Head Girl" and the official Hogwarts insignia, though it was being entwined, almost strangled by the snake. She reached deliberately into the inside pocket of her robes, withdrawing a long, thin wand. Sarah drew back, unable to run. The girl's eyes flashed, her grin widened as she looked across Sarah to Rory. "Well, well," she cooed dangerously. "Not the best way to make a start here at Hogwarts."

"Accio," she whispered, and dozens of the tiny pebbles zoomed through the air, depositing themselves in her other pocket. "Ten points apiece from…well…I suppose we'll have to wait and see where you end up," she laughed cruelly. "Better hope you get to spread the punishment out. For one house to start thirty points behind…" She shook her head in a terrible, majestic symbol of utter disdain, and strode off through the crowd. Sarah opened and closed her mouth a few times; unable to make utterance of the shame she already felt crashing down on her. It seemed unfair to her, but the cause didn't matter. It was only that she had lost her house points before even declaring a loyalty. She was marked with a stigma for whatever house she ended up in.

Next to her, Rory was shaking, vibrating almost like a cell phone, in fear or anger Sarah couldn't tell. Her face seemed to express violent loathing and unthinking rage, but her body language was extremely submissive, like a punished dog. Albus just looked stunned.

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed James, suddenly right behind them. "I'm so sorry about that, I should have warned you about her." He looked genuinely a little guilty. "That girl is…well…a…" he mouthed the last word, which was probably good, because Victoire, who was a well-known enforcer of all the Weasley mother's rules, drifted by at that moment, humming to herself.

"Last year, when she was just a prefect, she was the kind who would discover one of my little…" he coughed scrupulously, "…misdemeanors, and would go out of her way to make sure I got the most severe punishment possible. As in, find the strictest teacher, and multiple witnesses, and look up the rules themselves just to count how many I was breaking, and well…you get the idea."

"So, watch out for her, she a real stickler," breathed Sarah, committing the fact to memory.

"It's not even just that though," continued James, "she only obeys the rules that are favorable to what she wants, not the ones that…I don't know, help out struggling students, or give people proper amounts of free time. I'm all for laws when they deal solely with morality," he quipped epigrammatically, "but it is too far to create laws concerned with the much more serious business of fun."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Where do you get this stuff?" she asked. James just grinned mischievously, and disappeared into the crowd. Sarah shook her head disapprovingly, though with the slightest hint of amusement. "Come on," she said. "It looks like Hagrid might be looking for you Al," Indeed, Hagrid did seem to be squinting, peering into the crowd. With his big, rosy cheeks, his eyes looked completely closed.

Albus nodded his assent, and the three of them made their way to Hagrid's huge form.

Hagrid was still searching for them when they made it to him, standing directly below his craning neck. Albus reached up and grabbed a handful of Hagrid's tent-like smock, yanking it. Hagrid seemed barely to notice, but let out a roar of delight when he glanced down to see Albus.

"Albus!" he yelled, evidently unaware of his own volume. The station grew much quieter for a half-second after his exclamation. "Good to see you!"

"Thanks, Hagrid, good to see you too," replied Albus, a goofy smile playing on his face. It was hard to be grim around Hagrid, until he brought out his cooking. Even Rory seemed to be recomposing herself.

"And ye've made some friends already?" he asked, holding out his massive hand to Sarah. She shook it, and was about to introduce herself, but Hagrid had already shaken Rory's hand and swept away down to the docks. "Come on, then, I've room in my boat fer the three of ye'". It was a debatable statement. True, Hagrid's specially made boat was double or triple the size of the rest of the lot, but Hagrid easily took up three-quarters of the vessel himself. Albus, Sarah, and Rory managed to squeeze onto one bench though and lean far back, as Hagrid's weight, slightly displaced from the center, sunk part of the boat dangerously low in the water.

Sarah felt like a crescendo was slowly building in her chest, excitement at seeing the ancient castle itself coming to a head, for she knew that as soon as they got away from the initial thicket of trees, the castle itself would be visible, in its full glory, lit up by a hundred thousand magical lanterns. She turned to Rory to share her poetic exuberance, but her friend still looked completely distraught.

"Are you alright?" asked Sarah caringly.

Rory, still exhaling heavily and angrily, nodded. "It's just…that…that…"

Sarah nodded, the former incident's injustice still emblazoned upon her memory as well.

"Yeah," chimed in Albus. Sarah was surprised he had even been listening. "She really seemed to have it out for you." Sarah had noticed a particular violence in the Head Girl's manner when she laid eyes on Rory, but she wouldn't go that far. "Do you know her at all?"

Rory bit her tongue, stony-faced. "Yes," she replied curtly.

Sarah, having developed a few social skills in her time, probably would have ended the conversation at that. Albus however, was not so learned. "How?" he asked.

"She's my sister."

**Okay everyone, you know the drill. Read and Review, next chapter's up next Thursday.**


	3. Chapter 3

"She's your sister?" asked Albus incredulously. "The Head Girl…that Slytherin…" he struggled for an appropriately rude, but not quite vulgar word, "…fiend is your sister?"

Rory nodded grimly, her rage seeming to turn itself into apoplexy. Even Sarah, as clearly as she could see that Rory would prefer to remain silent, was a little intrigued.

"Boy," marveled Albus. "I mean…I guess I can see the physical resemblance, but…you just struck me as half-decent is all," he laughed.

"I'm not like her," spat Rory venomously, as Hagrid waved his umbrella-wand in the air, sending a few dozen rowboats gliding onto the sheet of black that was the Hogwarts lake.

"I wasn't saying you were," explained Albus quickly, having been butted back onto the defensive. "I just said that; that you were…"

"I don't get along with her, or the rest of my family, and I don't ever plan on doing so. My parents, and Orianna, and…" She choked on her fury, and fell silent. Her brevity and assuredness were clear signals that the conversation was over.

Sarah could imagine why Rory had such a sour relationship with her sister. From the few hints at her life she had gleaned during the train ride, Rory's family sounded like old money, pureblooded supremacists, the kind of people who had suddenly been elevated to the highest of heights nineteen years ago, then thrust just as instantaneously into the deepest shame and reproach. And Rory did not identify with that rise, or that fall. She sat seemingly alone, despite their forced proximity, arms crossed, trying to slow the furious alacrity of her breathing, calm back down to a more tranquil state.

Albus opened his mouth again, but finally seemed to notice Rory's sudden misanthropy, and closed it, focusing again on the ride. "In a few minutes we'll be able to see Hogwarts," he pointed out excitedly. "My dad took me here once, and we went sailing on the lake. I remember that once you pass that little island it's just past the clump of trees." He gestured at a tiny islet, inhabited by a solitary, forlorn tree.

A shriek came from Sarah's right, but it was the superficial meaningless kind, not the one of true terror. One of the sillier girls in an already unnecessarily loud boat had mistaken a floating log for something more sinister, though Sarah couldn't imagine what. Even with magic, they weren't exactly in a dangerous part of the world with regards to wildlife, and the creatures of the lake were largely friendly. Hagrid peered over at the boat, a little flustered at the task of transporting such large numbers of juveniles over a lake at night. Sarah was certainly not jealous of the authority.

To her surprise and amusement, Sarah spotted the reddish-brown hair of Rose among the gaggle of distressed girls, all rapidly vomiting forth a stew of high-pitched incomprehensible sounds that passed as speech in their strange circle. She looked away, clearly not at all invested in the group dynamic, and caught Sarah's eye. At seeing the grin on Sarah's face, she tilted her head, stuck out her tongue, and yanked a fist away from her neck, the international sign for desiring to hang one's self. Sarah laughed out loud at this. Evidently Rose was going to have to try to find friends outside her family with a little bit more depth. Or at least a little bit less need to express their shallowness.

"Look!" exclaimed Albus suddenly, thrusting his hand forward. Sarah had to lean to see around Hagrid's gargantuan form to see what he was indicating, but when she did, the sight was breathtaking. Hogwarts Castle stood before them, majestically thrusting its turrets into the darkening sky, the glow of lanterns finally conquering the now nearly vanquished glow of the sun, radiating an almost ghostly glow into the atmosphere. Its indomitable stone bridges were already covered in a procession of dozens of horseless carriages, making the Sarah's inexplicable feeling of being irresistibly summoned to the castle itself, not for the sake of schooling, but for the sake of magic alone, a feeling that seemed to be universal. The school seemed to be pulling in all the majesty and magic from miles around into this great nexus of power and tradition. Sarah was transfixed.

She had thought to herself earlier, while on the train, that the boats would be a good time to study the castle, get to know its general layout from the outside before she inevitably got lost in the endless maze within. But now, that wish seemed trivial and frivolous, compared with the desire to simply bask in the glow of inexpressible magnetism.

"Ther' she is!" roared Hagrid to the stunned first-years. "Hogwarts, yer 'ome for the next seven years!" The other students, and Hagrid himself, seemed very impressed by the declaration.

Not another word was uttered for the rest of the trip. The boats skidded along the surface of the lake with less than a ripple, and Albus, Rory, and Sarah could say nothing, absorbed by the grandeur like mosquitoes entranced by the light of a torch. And as unexpectedly as a shark attack, the boats bumped against the shore, the ride finished.

"Oh!" yelped Rory, clutching her hand to her stomach. "I think my Cherry Bomb just burst!" She smacked her lips a few times. "Tasty," she laughed. Hagrid, at this proclamation, finally seemed to remember he was not alone in the boat, and held off for a minute in his belting instructions to the rouge boats still frolicking on the lake.

"Oh, Albus," he said, disappointed. "I never even got to talk to ye', I was so worried 'bout the other kids."

"No problem at all," assured Albus kindly. "We'll see each other plenty throughout the year." Hagrid's face brightened, reverting to its familiar Pickwickian joviality.

"Well, would ye' mind stoppin' by sometime? My cabin is just on the grounds, and they're plenty safe now."

"Yeah!" nodded Albus enthusiastically. "We can all go, right?" there was bit of a plea in his voice, and Sarah suspected that he wanted the company so as to have a little more support when denying Hagrid's cooking, or at least a distraction if the necessity of hiding it arose. But Hagrid was entertaining enough, and he did seem to have an untouchable loyalty to all of the Potters, making it quite a shame to disappoint him, so Sarah just smiled and nodded.

"Well," coughed Hagrid, stepping out the boat and stretching his massive arms above his head. "Shame te break you three up, but it's time fer everyone to get in alphabet order." Rory sighed, and immediately went to stand at the very furthest boat.

"Alrigh'" roared Hagrid commandingly, "Everyone in order, A's to the front, and back in…" he paused, searching for the word. "…in order!" he finished. The first years, terrified of the sheer decibel level of Hagrid's voice, and therefore ignoring the friendly, coaxing note, obeyed immediately, though with much more difficulty than it should have taken. It always surprised Sarah how quickly the intelligence of a group descended as you added people to it. But, that was what mob psychology was all about, after all. After much pushing and shoving, Sarah was sandwiched between Alicia Dunder and Samuel Dylan. Alicia seemed affronted that she should have to be separated from her friends for even the few minutes of sorting, and Samuel seemed outraged that he should be forced into such close proximity with other people. And Sarah was highly annoyed that she was positioned between the most annoying kind of extrovert and the most infuriating kind of introvert. But of course, she said nothing as the line began to progress, stumbling its way up towards the castle.

Sarah wanted to study the castle again from up close, be swept away by its magnificence, but Alicia had a habit of slowing down for no particular reason, making it vital for Sarah to focus on her own steps, and, before she knew it, they were at the massive doors.

Hagrid gave some kind of strange salute with his umbrella, but the doors remained impassive. He ran a hand through his beard, thinking. Unfortunately, it became stuck halfway in that bramble-patch of hair, and Hagrid had to do a skipping dance to free it. Fortunately, the doors seemed to have a sense of humor, because, his wild gesticulations with the umbrella accompanying his dance did what his salute had not, and with the dignity of Merlin himself, the doors slowly inched their way open, sliding soundlessly on magically preserved hinges.

"Well," said Hagrid. "'ere we are." And he led them in.

The entrance hall was exactly as Sarah had heard described, and had imagined. Beautiful, ancient, yellow-brown flagstones, grand staircases leading to the second floor, majestic arches soaring over adjoining hallways. The only difference was something that she had never even heard mentioned, but made clear sense now that she noticed it. It was a large, obsidian obelisk in the center of the room, jutting up towards the ceiling. At first, Sarah was confused, but as she passed, she realized it was covered in the inscriptions of dozens of names that she had heard, but never met the owners of. It was a war memorial, she realized. The large, smooth faces of the monument were dedicated to those who died at the Battle of Hogwarts, each carrying a small, but poignant message. The larger, square base was inscribed with the dozens, perhaps hundreds of names of others who had lost their lives during the reign of terror. By the number of names alone, Sarah realized that it must have included Muggle victims, and silently thanked whoever had the sagacity to realize that, even though they could never know the reasons for their tragedy, they could be eternally remembered for their loss. Even though she had not been personally affected by the war, it was touching to see.

As they progressed, she became aware of a distant, dull buzzing, ever growing louder, sometimes peaking or diminishing. It took her a minute to realize that it was the sound of hundreds of conversations, blended together into a paste-pudding set dynamic, with occasional shouts or obnoxiously loud voices standing out. It was too distant to be coming from the line itself, so Sarah concluded that they must be close to the Great Hall.

And indeed, they were closer than she thought. The line turned a corner, and suddenly the noise amplified dozens of times, like the Surprise Symphony. Sarah wondered if Hogwarts had enchantments to prevent the echoes or travel of too-loud noises. It would certainly help maintain the air of education and learning.

There was a smattering of applause and cheering as first-years entered the room. It was amusing, because even Sarah, who was no physiognomist, could easily discern which students were clapping for the new students out of politeness, and perhaps a genuine welcoming gesture, and which ones just knew that their arrival brought them all one step closer to the feast.

Sarah scanned the crowds eagerly, searching for familiar faces. She was astounded by the sheer number of people in the hall, both ones she knew and those unfamiliar to her. All of Harry's descriptions of the student body always made her assume it was no more than a few hundred, and there were certainly a decent amount more than one thousand here. Perhaps there had been some kind of population boom, or at least a wider spread of the wizarding gene.

Furthest to her left was the Gryffindor table, red banners, lots of red heads, and an abundance of familiar faces. She noticed James, but he was too busy joking with his seat mate to respond. Next was Hufflepuff, where there were the most genuine applauders. Kindness and loyalty were what Hufflepuffs were known for though, so it made sense. Dustin was leaning almost all the way off the bench, trying to catch Sarah's attention desperately. He had a huge smile on his face, and when he locked eyes with her, he gave her an excited little wave. Sarah laughed and returned the gesture. He was acting more like an eleven-year-old girl than she was, she thought, amused.

Ravenclaw was on her right, and there were indeed a few familiar faces, though the entire table seemed to be removed from the scene, a kind of academic, emotional distance, separating them from the rest of the hall. They were the intellectual observers of all that was going on around them, not to get drawn in by the silly displays of exhilaration. Still, they seemed welcoming enough. Certainly there was no ill aura exuding from the table. No, that was reserved for Slytherin.

The entire table seemed to have been painted by an artist with a propensity for sneering. The arrogance of the table was almost tangible, though there seemed also to be a contrasting perpetual pout. Since their near betrayal during Voldemort's return, the house had not enjoyed the same standings. They were treated just as any other house, Hogwarts was an unbiased environment, but their ideals had proven flawed.

"Students and Staff!" came a booming voice from the center of the teacher's table, raised above the level of the others. Sarah looked up excitedly. She was surprised that she had forgotten about this main attraction she had been waiting for. Headmaster Marcus Elihphile was standing above the other teachers, his tall, broad frame simply begging to be center of attention, even when he didn't demand it with his remarkable charisma, or his massive, shaggy, brown but graying muttonchops. Sarah laughed out loud at the ridiculous sight, as did a few other students. The headmaster seemed to notice, but just grinned knowingly. Dustin had once told her that Professor Elihphile never went more than a month without radically changing his facial hair, and that, as he was a busy man, and didn't come to every meal all the time, it could somewhat end up being somewhat of a surprise. He recalled with much hilarity the instance his third year when the Professor had shown up last day of school with a massive waxed mustache extending off his face at least a foot in either direction.

Sarah already liked this man. He did look oddly reminiscent of some kind of a Napoleonic War general, what with his unique hairstyle, and his easy, likeable, obvious leadership. She could understand why he qualified for the job. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts, sure to be even more marvelous than the last, but not of course, as marvelous as the next. Apologies, seventh years," he winked playfully.

"I have personally written," he continued, reaching into his oversize sleeve to withdraw a scroll about the dimensions of a rolling pin, "an epic, inspiring speech to deliver to you students today, sure to delight and fascinate you for the many hours it shall certainly take to deliver it." Some of the hungrier students looked around nervously.

"However," he stated, a bland amusement stealing over his feature. "After visiting the kitchens, I decided that even the most divine orator could not compete with the culinary creations about to be set before you, and will thusly abstain. It did seem a shame to write such a speech without any audience to hear it, so, for all of those interested, I plan on delivering the address at 3:00 A.M. tomorrow morning in my office, very loudly and enthusiastically. All are welcome."

There was a mixture of uncomfortable laughter and satisfied smirks in the audience, as those who knew Elihphile's sense of humor silently appreciated the joke to themselves. "But now, for the more important task, one I could never hope to complete by myself, The Sorting!"

With the dignity that rested in his post surrendering to the excitement of a small child, Professor Elihphile reached under the table, disappearing for a short moment, then returning, carrying an ordinary stool in one hand, and a charred, ripped, stained wizard's hat in the other, though it was now enclosed in a glass case. Evidently, additional protections had been added ever since Voldemort's fire had rendered the condition of the hat almost critical.

The Headmaster set the stool in front of his podium, placed the hat lovingly on top, and removed the case, at which point he returned to his seat, and shifted comfortably, evidently quite ready for the long ceremony he was about to witness.

A large rip near the bottom of the half, now partially stitched near the ends to keep the hat from collapsing entirely, began to open operatically. The was an intake of air, as the entire hat seemed to inflate, and a single, musical word.

"_Should—"_

The hat ceased, suddenly overcome with a fit of coughing. "Excuse me," it apologized, mortified. It hacked one or two more times, until Sarah thought she saw a tiny ball of string fly from the makeshift mouth. The hat cleared it's throat, or at least made the noise, considering it was throatless, and began once more.

"_Should those of you who doubt the truth,_

_Our founder's well-thought goal,_

_A way to differentiate,_

_Wise, noble, kind and bold_

_Or ask why did they make a hat?_

_Do tests or bloodlines fail?_

_Then simply come and try me on,_

_You'll find those method's frail._

_For I'm a Sorting Hat, of sorts_

_Though time and wear may show_

_These scars and burns are mere reports_

_How my decisions go._

_One look inside and I can tell_

_Wherein you aught to be._

_With my permission you may go,_

_To any house you see._

_To Hufflepuff! The kind, the meek,_

_The winners in the end._

_Just look inside the badger's den,_

_You're sure to find a friend._

_Or Ravenclaw, those airy peaks_

_Of thought to which you'll soar._

_You'll find their nest has more indeed,_

_Than you might think in store._

_Or Gryffindor, the lion's heart,_

_And take the lion's share_

_Of pain in life, but be the Brave_

_Resist the evil snare._

_And Slytherin, the first, the last,_

_No longer by tradition_

_But soothed by power's gentle might_

_To reach their heart's ambition_

_Be warned, my fellows, and avoid,_

_That last forbidden fruit._

_It stays there for a reason, _

_No child's simple loot._

_For evil goes, but pow'r stays_

_And pow'r's might's amibtion's blaze._

The hat closed its brim, what might be described as a smug smile wrinkling its whole body. Professor Elihphile began clapping furiously, mightily amused. The rest of the audience joined in, confused. Sarah saw a few ink quills appear out of bags, people trying to record by memory the last warning of the song. Generally, warnings from the Sorting Hat were rare, but extremely accurate. However, this frenzy was interrupted by the wheezing call of an ill and distraught looking professor on the right hand of Professor Elihphile.

"Aarons, Thomas!" The boy slunk up, glaring hostilely at anyone watching him, which was of course, everyone. He placed that hat on his head, and plopped down on the chair, looking very skeptical of the whole situation. The hat jiggled, seeming to do a little thinking dance.

"Slytherin!" it called. There was spattered applause from that table, but not terrible enthusiasm.

"Abbess, Katarina!" A pale girl with even paler hair drifted to the stool, fitting in more with the legion of ghosts watching from the ceiling than the living, breathing mass of students below.

"Ravenclaw!" called the hat, without more than a second's delay.

"Abel, Sean!"

"Hufflepuff!" At that pronouncement was the loudest cheering of the three. Sarah smiled. It was nice to know that she was going to such a welcoming house.

The "A" names were quickly gone, as were the "B"s. Hufflepuff seemed to be having an especially burgeoning class, it seemed every other person was going there. Ravenclaw and Slytherin seemed to pick up the rest. Not a single student had gone to Gryffindor until the "C"s when a handsome, slightly goofy boy with black hair that was already showing signs of going gray became the first Gryffindor. What had his name been? Carter Cornwall, Sarah remembered. She had been trying to memorize the names by repeating the order after each sorting, which was sometimes successful, save the problem that sorting time was variable. Sometimes she could just barely eke the final few names out of her memory before the hat made its pronouncement, other times, she could barely begin to recall names, or the faces associated with them, before the Sorting Hat bellowed a house. Such was the case with Aurelius Cato, who had been sent to Slytherin before the hat even touched his head. But, judging by the hygiene of his hair, the hat had probably had enough before even having to look inside his mind.

"Dunder, Alicia!" wheezed the pale man with the list. And, with some dismay, Sarah realized she was next. How had it snuck up on her like this? Had her heart been beating so fast, so heavily this whole night, or had some kind of rocket boost kicked it into its highest gear? Her palms were damp, she hoped the hat didn't mind, it would be embarrassing to offend him before they had even begun. Oh, she hoped Alicia was a hard one, so that she would have more time to compose herself and…

"Slytherin!" cried that hat, satisfied with his division.

"Dursley, Sarah!"

Hagrid, who had been dozing at the teacher's table, started awake at the name, familiar because of her father. That was another embarrassment, she thought, ascending the steps timidly. Not that she was ashamed of her father, but Hagrid had only seen the worst in him, and now she was going to have to have tea with him.

She picked up the hat gingerly, her clammy hands almost dripping with sweat, and sat down on the stool. Everyone seemed to be looking at her. Everyone was looking at her, she reminded herself, cursing her stupidity. She better get this whole ordeal over with, her brother was looking anxious, and the empty seat and obscurity she would certainly gain as she left the stool sounded like bliss to her. Wincing, she jammed the hat onto her head, half-expecting a feeling like a probe or a needle to shoot into her brain.

What she felt was almost the opposite sensation. It felt like a grandfather, resting his hands gently, lovingly on her head, imparting some kind of a blessing, warmth and relaxation spreading from her head down. The room seemed to fade away before her eyes.

"Grandfather, eh?" laughed the hat, his voice seeming to come from all around her, though his mouth was positioned directly above. "Am I that old?"

"No," replied Sarah, laughing. She was totally comfortable, it was impossible not to be at ease with the influence of the Sorting Hat above her. "Well…maybe, but only in the best possible way. I forgot that you could read my mind."

"Well, not so much read it as…" He paused. "It doesn't matter; we don't want to keep the people waiting, do we? I never seem to have time to chat with any of the students; it's such a shame…" The hat trailed off.

"Anyway, this case seems straightforward enough to me," the hat harrumphed. "Just to make sure I've got my facts and justifications right, a few questions first. You are comfortable in any house, correct?"

Sarah frowned. "I suppose so." She hadn't thought other options would even be considered.

"But you very much want to go to the house where you will make the most friends."

"Right." Now she was feeling a little better, the Hat himself had said that Hufflepuff was where you would find a friend.

"And you want the house where your own natural talents, abilities, and qualities will be most magnified and well-used?"

"That's right."

"In short, the house of the founder who would choose you?"

"Correct."

"Well then, should I send you to that house?"

"Yes," confirmed Sarah, a huge smile of contentment spreading across her face. How could she ever have worried, about not being accepted in a place where there were benevolent beings like the Sorting Hat?"

"Simple enough," laughed the hat, and in a voice no longer privy to Sarah alone, it roared,

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Sarah beamed, and thanking the hat, set him back on the stool and skipped off to join her wildly applauding brother, screaming his support and waving wildly. It was not until she was about halfway there that she realized his uncontrollable gesticulations were not summoning her to him, but waving her on to the neighboring table, jumping up and down with excitement. She stopped in confusion, her brain catching up to her body's predetermined actions, telling it to reconsider, that something had changed. She turned, perplexed, back to the Sorting Hat, who just winked, even as he was being lifted onto the choleric head of Samuel Dylan.

As if designed specifically to add to this Jambalaya of new and extremely confusing sensations, her Cherry Bomb finally exploded with a sensation like an unexpected punch to the gut, and an upwelling of cherry flavor through her mouth and nose. With all the confusion going on in her body, it was a small miracle that she finally managed to collapse at the Gryffindor table, flanked by James and Carter Cornwall.

"Well," said James, a mischievous smile painting his features, though with the tint of true happiness, "unexpected, certainly, but certainly not unpleasant. I guess the Sorting Hat just knew I needed someone to keep me humble." He laughed, and thrust out his hand. "Welcome to Gryffindor House!"

**You know the drill! Reviews are good!**


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah was so shell-shocked at being placed in Gryffindor House, that she missed the next dozen or so Sortings. By the time she finally came to her senses, and looked up, she realized that her goal of learning at least the names of the students in her class had to be totally abandoned. It didn't matter that much anyway though, she had been focusing on Hufflepuff names with particular vigor, as she assumed they were going to be the ones she needed to know, meaning she had missed the few students who had been sent into Gryffindor. The boy next to her was named Carter. Carter…Something-or-other. That was all she could remember.

Fortunately, she had no shortage of Weasley associates to help her adjust to the house, if she should get lonely, so there was no danger of being totally abandoned. And, besides, she reminded herself, Albus was certain to join her. There, at least there would be no surprises. She wasn't so sure of her assumption, though, when another shocker came from the Hat, and "Goyle, Garrett," was sent, to his surprise and delight, to Hufflepuff. Perhaps his mother truly had been a saint, thought Sarah, applauding politely. Scorpius looked baffled, but also furious. He had already begun scanning the Slytherin table for a new crony.

Sarah felt a nudge beside her. She turned, and found that the boy next to her had his arm awkwardly bent and extended, an attempt at a handshake in the forced close quarters of the bench. The angle of his elbow reminded Sarah of the bend of a spider's leg, but it was all that fit in their confinement.

"Carter Cornwall," said the boy.

"Sarah Dursley," she replied, maneuvering her arm with some difficulty to take his hand and shake it.

"Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure's mine."

He smiled politely. "Just trying to at least learn the names of the housemates in my year. We are going to be seeing each other in the core classes and all, and I'm hoping not to have to resort to 'Hey you!' if I can avoid it."

Sarah laughed and the boy nodded, and turned to the angst-stricken boy on his left, proffering his other hand, slightly jostling Sarah, but most certainly not intentionally. Sarah smiled at the back of his head; the predominant black was flecked with a multitude of grey hairs. It was funny what genetics could do to people.

Most of the rest of the Sorting was fairly uneventful. Though she had many wizard and witch friends, only a few of them happened to be in her year, meaning that she didn't have much of a personal investment in the majority of the choices. Scorpius Malfoy was sent to Slytherin after only a moment's hesitation, and he seemed to receive at least marginally warmer smiles than the other new recruits. Evidently his name still held a bit of sway.

And then, one of the names she had been waiting for. The gentle, almost machine-like thrum of conversation that had accumulated as the list went on died down at the name, "Potter, Albus!" Those who had let their attention wander snapped back to the proceedings as if a drill sergeant had just entered the room.

Albus made his way up to the podium, looking only the slightest bit insecure, lifted the hat, and sat down nervously, lowering it onto his head. The hat sat there for a moment, a look of mild intrigue on its face, then it let out a booming laugh that echoed across the huge hall, and called out regally,

"Gryffindor!"

The applause for Albus was the loudest yet, half the people at Gryffindor table were on their feet as he rushed down to join them, even a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws stood, swept up in the congratulatory spirit. Albus rushed to the table, trying to keep a straight face, but finding it nearly impossible to resist the banana-sized grin struggling to express itself. He found a lucky seat directly opposite Sarah, and grinned at her gloriously. James was shaking his head sagely, and employing a few pointed, well used claps.

The stressed professor reading from the list looked positively distraught at the hubbub, but managed to continue. Now, it seemed, students were being distributed evenly among houses, but after the excitement of another Potter, the rest of the names seemed mundane. The white noise of conversation surged up to almost distracting levels.

Carter extended his hand across the table. "Carter Cornwall," he said. "Though I suppose I won't really have to struggle to remember your name."

"Probably not," agreed Albus. Normally references to his father's fame annoyed him, but after being safely placed in the house of his ancestry, he was too buoyant to let a few innocent jokes drag him down from his tranquil perch. Sarah considered asking Albus what the hat had been laughing at, but the Sorting Hat is a very intimate being, making his words perhaps not something to be divulged lightly.

By this point, almost all of the important names, or, at least the names important to Sarah, had been read, making the rest of the ceremony seem to drag on for hours. Her recently detonated Cherry Bomb had reminded her just how hungry she was, and after the mythical tales of Hogwarts cuisine, her mouth was producing an excessive amount of saliva. She had to swallow nearly constantly.

Rose was considered for much longer than either Sarah or Albus would have expected, which was unfortunate, being so near the end of the line. People were beginning to get impatient. Finally though, the hat came to a decision that, based on its facial expression, seemed almost arbitrary. "Gryffindor!" it shouted, almost sounding uncaring. Rose certainly seemed relieved though. She stopped by Albus and Rose before attempting to find a different group of new friends, to inform them that the hat had decided,

"In the end, my good heart and my inability to be completely removed from the situation made Gryffindor just as fine a house as Ravenclaw." Sarah could understand that. There was something about the Ravenclaw House that seemed not to allow for exasperation.

Finally, there were only two left. Marcus Zabini, who looked astounded not to be last, and Rory. Marcus was sent to Slytherin without a second thought, which brought loud whoops of approval from every house, including Slytherin. At this point in the night, they didn't really care where students went, only that it got done quickly. The food was so near that half of the students on the table were already holding utensils.

"Zyther, Aurora!" called the man, who looked extremely relieved to be finished with this very simple duty. Rory shuffled up to the stool as quickly as she could without embarrassing herself, and jammed the hat on her head, breathing rapidly. As if to add to the pressure, the conversation quieted to almost non-existence, as everyone knew that she was the very last student.

Immediately, Sarah could tell that this was going to be a long and unfortunate time. The face of the hat seemed to fall, confusion replacing its joviality. The brim opened, and seemed to fold in on itself, as if chewing on its lips. Rory's mouth was moving furiously, whispering something to the hat. Sarah didn't remember anyone else having to actually talk to the hat itself.

The hat was moving oddly, it seemed to be looking down from its roost, inspecting the girl herself in its confusion, but that too yielded no answers. Rory looked to be in anguish, her eyes dull. Sarah wondered with some dismay if Rory was crying. Certainly, this was a different experience from the one Sarah had. The tension only built, as seconds lapsed painfully into minutes. This was probably the longest sorting of the night, and certainly the worst positioned.

Finally, someone could take it no longer, and there was a loud yell of "Come on, already!" It seemed to come from the far back right corner of the hall, where the eyes of the Professor's turned instantly, with the glare of a basilisk, but the offending voice had already disappeared into the anonymity of the crowd. That call, though, had opened the floodgates, and across the hall, other voices cropped up, most simply groaning with expressed hunger and impatience, though others called rude names, or simply vulgarities. And it was exactly the right volume, or perhaps the wrong volume, the one mastered by the immature, just loud enough be certain that everyone knew what was said, but not quite loud enough to identify, or address the issue.

Aurora was certainly crying now, her face reddening as if it had been slapped, her body shaking with quiet sobs. "Leave her alone!" called James, looking disgusted, but he was in the minority.

The collective volume of mockery arose, and still the Sorting Hat did nothing but sit blankly on her head. Sarah felt an ache in her heart; she didn't care where it sent Rory, as long as it was off the stool and back into obscurity. The teachers were looking at each other, concerned, but unsure of what to do against such odds. Professor Elihphile though, was standing up, his former humor gone, and wand in his angry hand.

But before he could take action, there was a loud, final insult, perfunctorily disguised as a cough, but, for anyone who had already heard those malicious tones, unmistakably the voice of the older Zyther, Rory's sister, Orianna. "Squib!"

But before even the swift Professor Elihphile could react to this horrible, bigoted, smear, Rory was on her feet, her voice suddenly loud and terrible: "I'm not a Squib you—"

"That settles it!" roared the hat jubilantly. His happiness was uncomfortably apparent in this very inappropriate situation, but his pronouncement more than made up for it.

"Gryffindor!"

James, Albus, and Sarah all jumped to their feet to applaud, but they were the only ones. There was indeed applause, but it was subdued, instinctive. Everyone else just wanted to move past the shameful situation and get to the food, heads down and eat. Sarah stepped out of the bench to receive Rory in a much needed hug. Her eyes were still puffy, her cheeks wet, but now there was a relieved smile on her face, instead of a sick frown. Rory buried her head in Sarah's shoulder for a moment, then recovered herself, exhaled quickly, and made her way around the table to the empty seat next to Albus, who patted her softly on the back, making the gesture both congratulatory and comforting, an impressive efficiency for someone with the emotional intelligence of a pile of lumber.

Professor Elihphile, conveniently already standing, shook his head grimly. "Fifteen points to Gryffindor for the only kind comment in a flurry of unacceptable ones." He waved his wand. "I have nothing more to say." It was half shameful dismissal, and half ceremonial start to the feast, which appeared in front of them as suddenly and inexplicably as, well, anything magical.

Rory ate only lightly, still torn up over her mockery. Sarah sympathized, and was concerned for her friend, but the endless supply of food was simply too much for her to resist, and she ended up eating moderately. James and Albus ate quite heavily, and Sarah could not blame them. Sarah only controlled her taste buds by reminding herself that there were certain to be many more meals like this during her stay, and memories of pictures she had seen of her father when young. That certainly was a possible and undesirable outcome of unlimited delicious food at every meal, and shapeless robes to conceal her body. She wondered for the first time if perhaps taking up a sport would be desirable again.

But even she couldn't resist the temptation when Dominique Weasley playfully challenged them to finish off the depleted, but still formidable pot of stewed potatoes and peas, with a stash of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes products at stake. The majority of the labor was for James and Albus, but she did a share, more than she would have taken if appetite alone compelled her.

Despite their growing agony, James and Albus did end up emptying the pot, though in the end, their pace was slowed to the point where they were dividing spoonfuls between the two of them, trying desperately to shove the last little bit into the other person's exploding stomach. To their dismay, and Sarah's wild amusement, the second they scooped out the last morsel, the pot began to rumble, and was distressingly full once more. At the sight, James collapsed dramatically sideways onto Sarah's shoulder, whereas Albus simply rammed his forehead into his plate, spreading remnants of thick gravy across his forehead. He sat up quickly, embarrassed, and snatched Rory's napkin to wipe it away. That little action seemed to finally buoy Rory out of her funk, and for the rest of the night, it was all smiles. After all, despite the valley of mockery in the middle, she had made new friends today, and broken away from the hated traditional house of her family.

Finally, the food was cleared away, and the desserts as well. Professor Elihphile stood once more, albeit a bit more slowly and laboriously than he had before he had weighed down his stomach with delicious fare. He cleared his throat grandly, and the hubbub died away. Most people were ready to leave the Great Hall, whether it was to go straight to sleep, or just to have more intimate settings to catch up with friends.

"Traditionally, I have had a prepared speech to prepare students for the year, but multiple experiences with the somniferous influence of delicious food on the adolescent mind have inclined me to lean towards brevity this year." There was a smattering of applause, at which he looked pleased. So, as a matter of manners, I would ask us all to thank the kitchen staff, human and house elf alike for their food." There was a louder rumbling of applause.

"Prefects, you are dismissed to lead your houses to your respective Common Rooms." There was a loud scrapping of benches and the undammed roar of conversation burst forth, louder than it had been all night. There was a moment of fright as Sarah wondered if she might be swept away by the tide of people, before James laid his hands on her and Carter's shoulders.

"You can stick with me," he said, winking.

Sarah smiled. "Thanks. But say, aren't you supposed to be savvy, opportunistic jokester? A kind gesture seems a bit out of character."

James laughed at her presumption. "True, true, but there is no investment as important as an investment in the young. It makes them oh so easy to manipulate." He smirked and shoved them forward into the crowd. "Of course, half the secret is being so far in the front, or so far behind that you don't have to deal with the collective diminished intelligence."

And with that, he dove into the crowd, sliding through the milling mass of people with the flexibility of a contortionist and the familiarity of someone born in India, or Bangladesh. It took Sarah a minute to figure out the technique of twisting and shifting her body to maneuver through the crowd without resorting to shoving. Carter, on the other hand, had the strange desire to walk through the crowd with his shoulders straight forward, and consequently was lost in a second. When they finally made their way through the bulk of the crowd, James just told Sarah to follow the Prefects, and he submerged himself once more, returning with a confused Carter, then again, with Albus and Rory.

Soon they were at the portrait of the Fat Lady. The Prefect, who informed the crowd lackadaisically that his name was Pierce, also informed them of the password. "Veracity," he sighed, seeming as relaxed as a petted dog. The Fat Lady nodded curtly and swung open.

By this time, the throng had caught up, and Sarah had little choice but to be washed through the portal into the common room. Though she had done very little physically, the emotional fatigue of the day was quickly catching up. She barely had time to notice the massive, seductive red armchairs, the crackling fire, which, for the first time in the season looked very inviting, the barricade of desks shoved against the wall, before she was directed up the stairs to her room. The first-year dormitories were near the back of the hall, in a room that had evidently been adapted to the use, and probably recently. It was certainly comfortable, but it was a bit further removed from the rest of the rooms. That was okay though; it meant that there was a margin of privacy, something Sarah suspected she would miss about being the only child at home.

To her surprise and delight, the suitcases had already been placed at the foot of their beds, and the assignments seemed to be arbitrary, not alphabetical. At least, that's the only reason Sarah could fathom for being in a corner bed, with Rory as her only neighbor. Then again, perhaps the Hogwarts elves just had an instinctive knowledge of optimal arrangement. Rose had been placed several beds down from them, just far enough to satisfy her desire to branch out in friendships, but not so far as to render communication inconvenient.

Sarah opened her suitcase. In a stroke of inspiration, she had packed her night-clothes on top, meaning that unpacking could be saved for free time later. In a few minutes, she was showered, her teeth were brushed, and she was ready for bed. She was one of the first ones too, for when she came back into the dormitory, it was nearly deserted: all of the other girls had gone down to the common room. If there was one lesson that her parents had instilled on her, it was the importance of a good night's sleep. But no, the room wasn't empty.

Rory sat at the desk between her bed and Sarah's, still wearing her robes, contemplating some small object on the surface of the desk.

"Whatcha doing?" asked Sarah casually. Rory started, and made to swipe the object off the desk, but relaxed when she saw that it was only Sarah.

"Just trying to…well…figure out what this thing is."

She held up what appeared to be a small brown pebble. "Looks like a rock," said Sarah astutely.

"Well, yeah, I know that much. But it doesn't feel like one." She dropped it into Sarah's outstretched hand. Indeed, it was lighter, and smoother than a rock. The surface felt almost like plastic, though that was unlikely, wizards didn't share the same fascinated obsession with the material as Muggles. "Besides, what would my sister be doing with a pocket full of rocks?"

Sarah started, astounded by seemingly timid Rory's temerity. "How did you get this?" she asked, stunned.

Looking a little embarrassed and a little defiant, she replied: "Somehow I must have stepped on one of the falling ones, because when she used the Summoning Charm, I could feel it wiggling under my foot, but I pressed down harder and didn't let it go. Then when she left, I just stooped and picked it up."

Sarah nodded, impressed. Rory certainly had spunk when it came to confronting her sister. Stealing her pebble, refuting her insults. Maybe Sarah was beginning to see why Gryffindor was her house.

"We've got to figure out what this is," said Rory, pushing back her hair and biting her lip.

"Why?" asked Sarah, a little frightened to question her sudden determination.

"Because if I know my sister at all, and I'm very unfortunate to say I do, then she is up to something, and that something is no good."

"Huh. How do you know it's not something innocent, maybe…some seventh year potion ingredient? They do look a little like Muckcap eggs, gone very bad."

"No, no," contradicted Rory, her attention still glued to the object in Sarah's palm. "She cleaned up, she collected them again. Normally she'd leave the mess to someone else, or use it as evidence against us…and besides…" She didn't finish her thought. Sarah prompted her by handing the pebble back over.

"You may not have seen it, you don't know her as well, but for a second, before she realized it was us, there was a flash of…I guess fear, would be the only appropriate emotion…in her eyes. Like a guilty child, I remember thinking. No, she's definitely up to something."

"Hm," replied Sarah, certain she would be more interested in the mystery in the morning, after a long, long night's sleep. "Well, maybe Albus will be more enlightening."


	5. Chapter 5

Albus, as it ended up, was not very enlightening. He had as little idea as to the nature of the small brown rock as any of them. He suggested some kind of potion ingredient as well, giving Sarah a little vindication, but he seemed to doubt the idea even as he proffered it. Unlike Sarah though, he seemed to take the idea that Orianna was up to something sinister for granted. From the moment the idea was mentioned, he supported it whole-heartedly, and seemed to feel that there was some kind of unchangeable obligation for the three of them to do something about it. As she remembered stories from Harry's time at Hogwarts though, it began to make a little more sense. He too, had been quick to suspect conspiracy.

Also differing from the two of them, he seemed a little more blasé about the fact that Rory had stolen an unknown magical artifact from her sister, the Head Girl. At the breakfast table when they explained the whole affair to him, after failing to identify the rock himself, he called over James to have a look. When James could make neither head nor tail, he called over Rose. Sarah and Rory looked at each other uncomfortably, wondering whether this truly was something to be shared and flaunted. But neither of them seemed to have any idea what the object was, and didn't seem particularly intrigued. Besides, as Rose reminded them a little condescendingly, they really should be worried about their first classes.

And worried Sarah was. She knew that there were other Muggle-borns in the school, some with even less magical knowledge then her, but she couldn't help but wonder how much prior knowledge was assumed. Obviously, ability to navigate the castle was taken for granted, as there weren't even any maps handed out. Obviously Rose would say that the place was merely unplottable, but the Marauder's had managed to bypass that restriction, it certainly seemed like the school could put in a little effort.

The first breakfast, the only short period of time where Sarah could relax and spend a little more time with friends before the whirlwind of classes, seemed to shoot by with shameful haste. Between receiving and reading a letter from her parents, inscribing a quick reply, listening to James convey a few helpful hints about secret passages, and attempting to memorize her schedule, she barely had time to cram a few bites of scrambled eggs and bacon into her mouth before they were off to their first class, Herbology with Hufflepuff.

That, at least, was a welcoming start to the year. She had met Professor Longbottom before while spending the day with the Potters, and had gleaned some rudimentary garden experience with her mother. And, as she heard James assure Albus and a nearly hyperventilating Rose, for the first half of the year, Herbology was just Gardening 101, with slightly more interesting results.

He proved to be mostly right. Professor Longbottom was very friendly, energetic, if a bit awkward, though very kind about it. He said that it was likely he was the only Professor who would not be lecturing about the importance of their subject today, as he preferred to get straight into the nitty-gritty. Gritty proved to be an apt description. The class was so basic though, that Sarah had a hard time believing that down near the end of the row, students were struggling. The bulk of the lesson was spent on watering Miasma Flowers, which sprayed a pleasant smelling mist when the soil beneath them was sufficiently saturated. Nice, harmless plants. Sarah could deal with that.

The next lesson was deep in the dungeons, Potions with the Slytherins. Albus seemed to have an aversion to the class based entirely on his father's experience in it, and his prejudice was influencing Rory and Sarah, even though Sarah tried to resist. It was just hard to keep an open mind, to expect a fun and interesting class after five minutes of winding, dark flagstones, the air chilling ominously, as if they were approaching a room of dementors.

The Potions Master was also the Head of Ravenclaw, and the nervous looking man who had read the list of names for the sorting. He wasn't nervous so much as flustered, for though his room was very organized, there was a stack of ungraded papers on his desk that reached almost to Sarah's nose. His name was Professor Hornby, and, beneath the initial anxiety, Sarah could tell he was a very effective teacher, if not an efficient grader. The first lesson, however, was, as first lessons are almost obligated to be, exceptionally dry. Sarah's worries of that teachers would expect prior knowledge were unfounded, she reflected dully, as Professor Hornby illustrated the anatomy of a cauldron on the board.

History of Magic was with the Ravenclaws, and Professor Orgill was as entertaining as Dustin described. He was a short, young man with a mop of messy brown hair and a charismatic aura of ease that permeated the classroom. He explained that he was under no illusions about the importance of History of Magic in the lives of most of them as they grew older, but that the research and critical thinking skills they gained in his classroom would almost certainly be vital to their future careers. After all, all the charms and jinxes in the world wouldn't help if you didn't know where to point your wand, he reminded them.

Charms was also with the Slytherins, but Sarah and Rory missed that class in its entirety. Albus was the one leading the group, and while he had managed to memorize a few of the castle's secret passages, he didn't quite know their dangers, and Rory sunk leg-deep into an annoyed flagstone. As first-years weren't supposed to know about the secret passages, Albus went ahead and told the Professor that Rory had taken ill, and Sarah was helping her back to the dormitory. He slipped her a few Skiving Snackboxes before he left, in case anyone decided to check her symptoms.

Forty-two uncomfortable and slightly distressing minutes of wiggling and pulling later, the disgruntled floor released its hold on Rory's leg, and, deciding that the class must have been almost over, Sarah and Rory snuck back up to the common room.

On their way back up, Sarah and Rory almost ran into a spot of trouble as they passed through what seemed to be an abandoned corridor. Sarah was just admiring a tapestry of some very ugly creatures attempting ballet, when an anxious voice squeaked from the opposite wall,

"Hey!" Sarah jumped. "What are you doing?" On the opposite wall, flanked by enormous, hideous gargoyles, was a portrait of a small, fat man with perfectly round glasses with wire frames. He was cowering behind a cement wall in a barren room that seemed almost to be a bunker, his balding head barely poking over the bottom of the frame.

"We're just passing through," replied Sarah, unblushingly. Rory was still startled, holding her hand to her heart. Sarah hoped that she was good at hiding guilt.

"Ha!" laughed the dwarf, though he did not seem to find the lie funny. "In the middle of class-time?"

"Our Professor let us out early," added Rory, recovering her cool with surprising speed. Sarah smiled. It was good to have a convincing liar as a friend.

"A likely story! What will you claim next, as your excuse to come spy on me!"

Sarah and Rory exchanged an amused grin. The portrait was obviously paranoid. "We're not here to spy on you," laughed Rory. "Why on earth would we care what a picture hanging on a wall is doing?"

"I rightly have no idea!" exclaimed the portrait in what was supposed to be rage, but came out as insecurity. "But this year is different! This year Professor Elihphile has ensured my safety with these guards." He gestured proudly at the statues standing to his left and right. Sarah would have laughed at his delusion, until the massive gargoyle blinked slowly, unmistakably. "This year you can finally keep your eyes to yourself young madam!" He spat on the ground in Rory's direction.

"This year?" asked Rory, her temper rising. "I've never seen you in my life!"

"Nonsense! Cadmus, Bartholomew!" The huge figures of the gargoyles shook ominously, and their heads turned to face the portrait. Sarah did not need to hear what happened next, she was already sprinting down the hall, Rory close behind her. They could hear no sounds of pursuit, but the sheer terror of the living statues had been enough to propel them up several floors before they stopped, gasping for breath. Sarah felt at her lip, she had tripped on her overlong robes while they ran. No blood, so she focused on catching her breath.

Wordlessly, they made their way back up to the common room; classes were finished for the day, but students were lingering in the halls, so the room was still deserted as Sarah and Rory stepped through the port-hole. Or at least, that was Sarah's first assessment. On her second, she was surprised to see James, sitting in a corner, muttering to himself over some parchment. It seemed unlikely to be homework, and Sarah's curiosity got the better of her. She sidled over nonchalantly, and observed that he was placing colorful chips on an old, wrinkled map.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked innocently. And before she could even register his rapidly changing expression, the table was clear, map and chips stuffed into his pockets. He struggled for an excuse for a moment, and then sighed.

"I suppose that flighty little believable excuse period has been exhausted, hasn't it?" Sarah nodded, amused by his charm. "Well, to be honest, I'm planning a rather large and complicated practical joke, which you can't know anything about, or the surprise will be gone." Sarah nodded in agreement. "Why are you two so red in the face?" he asked "Running or rowing?"

"Running," she replied, "Rory too."

"I could tell. You don't know each other well enough to get a real row going." Sarah shrugged. It was probably true. The first stages of friendship usually were pretty peaceful.

"Say, James," continued Sarah, quite conversationally. "It seems to me, that with your extensive knowledge of the school…"

"Ah, flattery," he sighed. "The only kind of talk I can stand to listen too."

"Have you ever come across a paranoid portrait of a small balding man with glasses?"

James thought for a moment. "Short?"

"Quite."

"In a dungeon of some kind?"

Sarah thought. "I guess. I'd have called it a bunker."

"No, no, it's definitely a dungeon. But fear not, I know exactly who you're talking about. That's Peregrin the Paranoid. Bane of all those who like to explore the castle's halls unaccompanied."

"Did you know that Elihphile's given him two giant gargoyles to protect him?"

James looked impressed. "Boy, he must have some kind of charisma! If I had persuasive powers like that…" he trailed off, lost in daydream.

"He claimed to have seen me before," mused Rory, looking as if she had a word on the tip of her tongue, though this was perhaps an idea, or a connection on the tip of her brain. Or, at least, just below the surface of her conscious mind.

"Well I get the vibe that he's not the kind of guy to make close friends with the students. He probably just mistook you for another tall-ish, blonde student."

Rory sat in thought. Then, like a skeptical swimmer dipping her toe in the water, she added "A tall, pretty, blonde student?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Yes, a tall, pretty, blonde student," she corrected herself reassuringly. But Rory did not seem to be fishing for compliments.

"Who has evidently been here quite a few years, considering he said that she would 'finally' be gone?"

"I guess…" replied Sarah. Somewhere there was a turn in this conversation, and she was trying to backtrack to where it happened.

"And, as we were standing pretty close to him, it would have to be someone who bears a close resemblance, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, that'd help."

"You realize that there's exactly one student in this school who fits those descriptions perfectly."

And her hints suddenly illuminated the mystery to Sarah. "Oh…You think he mistook you for your sister?" Rory nodded. "Well, don't worry, you're much prettier than her," laughed Sarah, patting Rory on the shoulder.

"Sarah," spoke Rory, still completely serious. "You don't realize what this means." She shrugged off Sarah's hand. "Orianna has been spying on this portrait for years, and suddenly, her last year, Professor Elihphile decides to give it clearly excessive protection?"

Sarah scoffed, a little more unkindly than she intended. "Rory, he's just a paranoid picture. What does the fact that your sister looked at him have to do with anything?"

Rory motioned pointlessly with her hands, searching for support. "I don't know! But this was more than just looking at him; it's been going on for a few years at very least. And clearly Professor Elihphile thinks he's important enough to be guarded by indestructible hunks of stone!"

"Listen, I know you hate your sister, but the fact that she watches portraits and carries stones in her pockets are not proof of dastardly conspiracy! I think you have to get over…"

"Ladies, ladies!" exclaimed James, pushing his way between them. Sarah suddenly realized how loud she had been speaking. She hadn't been angry exactly, but Rory was being ignorant, just as paranoid as Peregrin. "I thought you two said you had been running, not rowing. Or is this new?"

Rory glared at Sarah. Evidently she had been taking it quite a bit more personally, and half of Sarah wanted to apologize immediately. But the other half reminded her that she had more important things to worry about than falsified plots and worried wall-hangings. James looked between the two of them, obviously expecting an answer. "It's new," grumbled Sarah.

"Well," said James, scratching his head. "Discounting duels to the death, which wouldn't be very effective considering neither of you know any spells, the best way to solve a highly divisive argument such as this is a third-party mediator." He posed, waiting to be chosen.

"Fine," Rory spat. "Let's ask Albus."

Sarah scoffed. "Let's ask Rose, she's the smart one."

"You just want her because you know she doesn't have Albus's common sense."

"And clearly, all I have is two more years of wizarding experience than all of you combined," interrupted James, sighing melodramatically. "But if it must be this way, 'Adieu!' May your unworthy mediators find some pathetic measure of success." He retreated up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

There was an awkward moment of silence between Sarah and Rory, neither of them sure of the severity of their skirmish. Sarah was about to open her mouth, either to jab snidely or apologize maturely, she wasn't sure which, when the portrait door swung open. Rose stepped out, accompanied by a few students Sarah had seen her hard at work to befriend throughout their classes today. She was chatting comfortably with them, and it seemed a shame to disturb her.

Sarah bit her lip. "We don't have to ask Rose," she admitted, relieved and embittered at the same time. "We can just see what Albus thinks." But Sarah knew she was surrendering the argument, it was not difficult to predict what Albus thought. Rory eyed her suspiciously, cautious about whether or not to accept the olive branch. Or, olive twig perhaps, Sarah had not admitted any fault, nor was she planning on doing so any time soon. This was more about damage control.

Albus arrived significantly after the other first-years. "Oh there you are," he sighed as he spotted them. "I checked back in the passage but you were gone. I didn't know if you had gotten out yourselves or if a teacher had caught you."

"No, I got her out eventually," replied Sarah, perhaps a little pointedly. Rory glared at her, but Albus seemed oblivious to the tension. "How was Charms?" she asked.

"Not so good," lamented Albus, looking every bit the bearer of bad news. "Professor Dorian is that kind of Professor who appeals to the rest of the students by picking on a couple and…well…your absence didn't allow you two to defend yourselves so…"

"Now we'll have a sarcastic and probably cruel teacher picking on us for the rest of the year," completed Sarah. "Great, just great. What an excellent first day."

Albus seemed finally to detect the hostile atmosphere. "Why? Did something else happen?"

"I'm sure Rory can tell you all about it," replied Sarah, trying not to let the heavy sarcasm in her mind express itself in her voice. And with that she stalked away from a confused Albus and an angry, but slightly pitying Rory. She didn't care. She didn't feel like taking anyone's pity right then.

Just to show her eagerness to leave the situation, she vaulted over the back of one of the smaller chairs, and plopped down right next to, and to some degree, on top of Rose.

"Hello!" exclaimed Rose, using the word as a greeting and a yelp of surprise.

"Hi," replied Sarah. "What's going on?"

It took Rose a moment to process the question, during which time a raven-haired girl across from Harry giggled at Sarah's sudden entrance. "Oh, I'm just chatting with my new friends," replied Rose, emphasizing the sentence carefully, with a note of pride.

"That's great," returned Sarah genuinely. There was a slightly awkward beat, as Sarah waited for introductions, which Rose had not quite realized it was her obligation to make.

"Oh!" she cried. "This is Carter Cornwall," she said, indicating Carter, who good-naturedly extended his hand anyway.

"We've met," explained Sarah as she shook his hand.

"And these are the Westfold twins, Marcus and Cassandra." Sarah could not imagine a more comically different set of twins. Though they both had black hair, slightly tanned skin, and smooth, sweeping features, their expressions could not be more ludicrously unequal.

Cassandra, the girl, the one who giggled, seemed at first to have an abnormally massive mouth, until Sarah realized that it was simply in a perpetual state of extreme, bubbly joy. Her entire face seemed made for smiling, every feature turned upward by the constant ebullition of bliss. She shook Sarah's hand as well, very firmly, but jovially, not formally.

The brother's face was etched with what seemed to be a permanent morose glare. Even just watching his face as he glanced around the room, it looked to Sarah as if he were being imprisoned here, not getting to stay at one of the best magical schools in the world. He had a birthmark splashed across his cheek and mouth, adding to the puckered, withered look. He didn't look inherently unpleasant, just constantly unhappy. And Sarah had never heard him say a word, she realized, thinking back on her classes. He did not offer any salutations.

"Oh, don't worry about Marcus," assured Cassandra. "It's a thing with males in our family. Couple rough years through adolescence, but you'll shape up eventually, won't you?" She addressed the last part to Marcus with a slightly babying intonation. Sarah was surprised Cassandra didn't wither, or ignite under the hostility of Marcus's glare. Sarah could tell why he didn't need to talk now; he could express more with his eyes than Sarah could with her whole body. She was intimidated even being in the same room as that anger.

"Well say 'Hello' to Sarah," encouraged Cassandra. It took him a few seconds for his deeply sarcastic gaze to even shift from his sister to Sarah.

"'Lo," he murmured rebelliously.

"Hi?" replied Sarah, unsure how to take this unwarranted enmity.

"Not so hard, was it?" asked Cassandra. "Don't worry about him, he's just shy. Get him talking about Quidditch though, and he can out-chat a pack of ten-year-old girls." Somehow Sarah found this a little doubtful.

The five of them chatted about teachers and first impressions, or at least four of them did. Eventually, Cassandra decided to pull out a chess board, she seemed to know that her brother would abandon his stolid melancholy with the chance of competition eminent.

Though it was a wizard chess board, everyone maneuvered the pieces manually, if only to accommodate Marcus, and his apparent vow of silence. Carter also had a board in his dormitory, so he fetched it, and a tournament of sorts began. Sarah was pretty good, Rose surprisingly lacking in skill. Carter was decent; he had a way of thinking so far ahead in the game he would miss the obvious flaws in his current move. Sarah got his queen that way. Cassandra was good, but didn't seem to want to put in the thought to really dominate. And Marcus was unstoppable. His moves were quick, he disliked waiting, but Sarah could tell that every move was perfectly analyzed. She could almost smell neurons firing behind his eyes as he stared at the board for those few brief seconds between her move and his.

For a moment, she wanted to introduce him to Rory, and get a game of Duke's Intrigue going, until she remembered that they were arguing. It was most inconvenient. One of them was going to have to apologize soon, so that they could get back to being friends.

That night, she decided to be the mature one, and did. "Rory," she said, as they were climbing into their beds, "I'm sorry I was so harsh on your theory."

"It's fine," replied Rory, still a little coldly.

"It's just…" Sarah stopped herself. Restating her points would only restart the argument. "I don't think we really need to worry about it, until more evidence turns up. I'll sympathize with your suspicions, as long as they don't get us in trouble, or interfere with school work, okay?"

Rory glanced over suspiciously. "Okay," she replied. "Not that there was much we could do anyway." She heaved a sleepy sigh that turned into a massive, grizzly bear-like yawn. "Besides, this is our first year. Time to put the past behind us and all, right?"

"That's right," agreed Sarah unintelligibly. Rory seemed to have spread her yawn around the room. And suddenly, Sarah became aware of just how exhausted she was. Without another discernable thought, she was asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day was their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, though the conversation preceding it turned out to be much more interesting. By happy coincidence, the three of them were headed to the same distant wing of the school as Sarah's brother, Dustin, who was always a buoyant force in conversation, even when speaking of the potentially grim, as he was today.

"So, let's hear some new opinions on the Sorting Hat's song!" he exclaimed as he sighted them. "Dustin, by the way, Sarah's brother," he introduced himself, holding his hand out to Rory.

"Rory, Sarah's…friend." She seemed to put a little more emphasis than necessary on the word, probably reinforcing the treaty from the night before.

"Well? I've already talked to almost everyone in Hufflepuff, but I thought views from a different group might help enlighten the whole situation." Albus nodded in agreement.

"I thought it was good," he complimented. "I mean, maybe if I had nothing to do for a year but sit on a shelf, I could come up with something like it, but it was still impressive.

Dustin looked confused for a minute, then caught up, and laughed. "Not the song itself, that happens every year. No, the interesting part was the warning. What was it again? 'Evil goes but power stays, and power's might's ambition's blaze?'" He addressed this to a fellow Hufflepuff fifth-year standing next to him, a pretty girl with a permanent blush. She nodded feebly.

Everyone mused for a couple of seconds as Peeves whizzed by overhead, carrying what looked to be a Weasley firecracker. Someone must have left one out for him. "So…I guess the question is…what is the 'blaze', of power, might, and ambition?" asked Albus thoughtfully.

"Yeah, we couldn't figure that out either," replied Dustin. "And it seems odd that they include power and might, doesn't it? Isn't that a little redundant? I mean, redundancy in a song or poem is good to reinforce a point, but if it's only for the purpose of repeating the most important part, why is ambition thrown in there?"

There was silence as they pondered the question, but Sarah's train of thought had hit a different switch than theirs. "I don't think you three are thinking about this right," she ventured cautiously. "I don't think he was talking about the blaze of power and might and ambition."

"What do you mean?" asked one of the boys. Sarah was too deep in thought to figure out which one.

"Well…it seems to me that if we got the Sorting Hat to write out the lyrics to his song this year, what he would write would be 'Power's might _is_ ambition's blaze.' The 's' we heard at the end of the word 'might' is just 'is' with a swallowed syllable. As in, the 'might' of power, or the reason that power is power, is because of ambition's blaze. Whatever that is."

"Ahhh…" concurred Dustin. "Now we're getting somewhere. I knew I just had to ask my genius sister!" Sarah rolled her eyes.

"I'm not a genius, it's just common sense. Why on earth would you put three possessives in a sentence?"

"Well, I just had to ask my very sensible sister," laughed Dustin. "This is my turn," he said, pointing up a staircase that in some massive feat of optical trickery, seemed to be travelling both up and down at the same time. Sarah waved as he turned away, then checked her schedule. The room number would seem to indicate that her class was at the end of this hall, though those could easily be deceiving at Hogwarts.

"Well, it should be right at the end here," she said conversationally, turning to Rory. She merely nodded, looking a little pale. Sarah was about to ask if she was alright, before she remembered the probable cause of this pallor. Warnings about ambition would probably not be comforting to someone who was already slightly ashamed of their purposeful drive.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts room was not exactly where Sarah expected it, it was hard to keep any particular room tied to one location, so the labeling system was a little off. The room, 111B, was lurking between 118B and 456Q, a change from last year, remarked a snobby Ravenclaw who had visited the castle every year since his eight birthday.

After the lesson was over, Sarah only wished that it had been as exciting as the room. The walls and floor still bore scars, both blast-marks and missing chunks, from the last teacher, an old Scottish clansman named Professor Macpherson. He had been the head of a guerrilla task force that almost single-handedly kept Voldemort from spreading his reign north of their tiny mountain village. Unfortunately, he had retired two years ago, and seemed to have taken all the excitement of the job with him.

The new professor was a woman named Professor Farbanks. She was of late middle-age with a likeable personality, but a dreadfully dull speaking voice. Even during the first lesson, Sarah had to resort to doodling to stay awake. At least she was easily distracted, and any particularly dry part of the lesson could be avoided by asking about her only slightly more interesting personal life.

Charms, on the other hand, was a nightmare. The teacher, Professor Dorian, was a likable woman in her late twenties or early thirties, and indeed, Sarah found herself drawn in by her charismatic, graceful manner, drawn to her in spite of Albus's warning, until she switched from basic introduction and roll call to begin teaching. She started the class with a surprise quiz on how to properly grip your wand for charm work. Sarah had not been aware that there were different grips, but the rest of the class looked prepared, if a little intimidated by such a quiz. Albus caught her eye, and held up his wand, attempting to intimate that she had missed this yesterday, and that Albus was displaying the proper technique. It looked a little unsteady, allowing full motion of the wand, probably appropriate, since charms usually had more flicking of the wrist then other schools of magic.

But in such a small class, alphabetically, Sarah was third, and Albus was all the way across the room. Well before she was ready, Professor Dorian called her up with a scoff.

"So," she started casually, though it was clearly intended for the benefit of the class, and not Sarah herself. "I guess you deemed us worthy of your presence today." Some quiet tittering broke out among the Ravenclaws. "Well, as _noble _as it was to help your friend, I don't know how much it will help you today. Wand."

Sarah withdrew her wand, suddenly a bit insecure about it. Even the wickedly aged Mr. Ollivander had said that it was one of the more unusual wands he had made, as it was only six inches long. Very solid as well, he had added, making it excellent for dueling and transfiguration, though a bit lacking in mobility for charms. Sarah had liked it because it was so short, it felt like an extension of her arm. It had almost felt to her like she was shooting the sparks out of her hand, not the tip of the wand.

Professor Dorian laughed out loud at Sarah's wand, a haughty, derivative noise. "What a scrawny wand! And no flexibility, awful for any practical uses of magic. Still, I guess we all must make do with whatever twig chooses us." She shook her head in pitying disgust, drawing a few more giggles from the class. Sarah wished they would stop feeding her, their laughter was all the encouragement Professor Dorian needed. "Well, I assume after learning what you missed from classmates, you practiced your grip enough to make up for the missed class. Let's see it." There was a cold cruelty in her eyes, and a grin struggling to stay hidden under the mask of professionalism.

Something inside Sarah was quivering. It was probably some kind of errant tendon, but Sarah felt it was much more poetic to imagine her heart was quailing under the pressure. Apologetically, she held up the best imitation of Albus's grip. Dorian only scoffed.

"Ha! It's a wand, not a drumstick. Your index fingers and thumb are far too tight, and there's no support coming from anywhere beyond your third finger. Your wrist is far too angled, it should be a…" she paused. "…no, I won't bother correcting any more. You're the one who needs work, not I. Return to your seat."

Red-faced, Sarah did so. Albus was trying to catch her eye, mouthing apologies, but Sarah didn't feel like social interaction at the moment. She felt more like being alone with a large pillow to punch, or sob into, or do something with, anything but sit here and endure the mocking glares of Professor Dorian, and her occasional snide comments. Rory was last to be called upon, and had managed to learn the proper grip from her classmates before she was called. Of course, Dorian couldn't let one of her victims escape, and merely grunted "Juvenile, but passable."

That night, Sarah spent an hour and a half practicing her grip, which, to her, seemed a very long time to spend on homework. Unfortunately, the textbook was wordy and confusing, with very few diagrams, so she had to rely on the advice of other people. In general, they were only marginally better, as the first years didn't have enough experience to give tips, and for the older students, it had become such second nature that they were having difficulty describing it to her. As James so eloquently put it: "You're doing something wrong, and I know what it is, but I don't know how to correct it." Eventually though, Sarah began to feel a little more confident, and in subsequent lessons, Professor Dorian started picking on her for other reasons, which Sarah gladly took as a sign that her grip had improved.

On a more exciting note, the first flying lessons had begun. Sarah impressed even herself with her ability to stay on the broom, and avoid the near-crashes that were going on almost constantly around her. Of course, Albus was an expert, a natural. Both his parents had been astoundingly good Quidditch players, and, at least on his father's part, it was without any practice before his first year. So, while other students struggled to keep their brooms level, Sarah tossed crab apples to Albus, who almost invariably caught them, even on Sarah's worst of throws. Rory, on the other hand, was absolutely awful. Despite having wizarding parents, she confided in Sarah that she didn't think she even owned a regular broom, let alone one worth flying on. She spend the majority of the lesson a few feet from the ground, desperately trying to keep the tip of her rambunctious broom from rising above the ordinary angle and shooting into the sky, like a foam board pushed underwater.

Later that week, they stopped by the Quidditch pitch to watch Gryffindor practice. Albus lamented that, had the current Seeker not been a seventh-year desperately wanting to finish his education out with a perfect season, and the team captain on top of that, he could definitely be the Seeker. It was especially painful for him, as James was on the team, and even as barely a third-year, he was already one of the most celebrated Chasers in the school. He had actually scored very few points, only twenty in the entirety of last season, but he was simply superb at positioning, and extremely nimble on the broom, which meant that as a third year, he was already about two-thirds of the way of the way to the school all-time record for assists, and had ensured an easy Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor last year.

Currently, James was flying upside-down, provoking much abuse from the captain, which he simply laughed off. "I'm going to use these skills in a game you know!" he replied jauntily, yelling across the field.

Albus sighed and rested his head in his hands. "It's just hard, you know, because all of us, my family, I mean, we're all famous because of my dad, and I just…well…I wanted to earn a little bit of it. James has, he's funny and popular and excellent at Quidditch, and I just want a try." They sat in silence for a moment.

Sarah patted his back. "Well, there's always next year." He did not look comforted. He actually looked a little exasperated with her. She was saved from any sarcastic rebuke by Rory, who muttered quietly,

"I know what you mean." She seemed to be deep in thought. At this reminder that other people also knew the pangs of sibling rivalry, and felt it much more acutely than he did, Albus brightened up a bit, and in their ensuing commentary about the practice, seemed a bit more warm to Rory than he was to Sarah. But she didn't mind. The prospect of figuring out and mastering the strategies of a whole new sport delighted her more than idle conversation with her friends.

The Chasers were the most interesting players in her mind. The Beaters seemed like hardly more than body-guards. If she were one of them, she was sure to be a little more useful to the larger formations, though perhaps Beaters were more useful to disrupt enemy formations than strengthen their own.

Looking at Gryffindor's Seeker, Sarah couldn't help but agree with Albus's assessment. He was large, slightly unwieldy on his broom, and while he could certain bowl other players out of the way with his sheer momentum, which might be enough to keep the other Seeker off the Snitch, it seemed unlikely he would be able to get it quickly, unless they were playing with a particularly lazy Snitch.

"Oh," sighed Rory, awakening Sarah from her reverie. "Look who's coming to join us." Striding purposefully towards the pitch, hands in her pockets, a newspaper wedged in one armpit, was a girl with long, reddish hair, pulled back into a ponytail so that it didn't explode everywhere. It could get very bushy at times.

The girl was, of course, Rose Weasley, and she looked like a miniature adult, walking towards them. Not even a mature preteen, or an arrogant and superior preteen, like Molly Weasley (daughter of Percy) could tend to be. No, with the look of sagacious disapproval and concern on her face, she looked like a bonsai human.

"What are you doing down here?" asked Albus, a bit incredulous. "Aren't you the one who thought that sports were what was it… 'An excuse to let the baboon inside to the surface, and be rewarded for it?'"

Rose flushed slightly. "Oh, Albus, that's a bit out of context." She gave a sidelong glance to Sarah. "Fred had just bowled me over on the broom, and this was when there was that big scandal about the Edinburgh Edaphosaurs, I wasn't feeling particularly friendly towards the sporting world right then." Albus looked skeptical. "If you must know, I'm actually a fairly decent Beater in family games," she shot with a huff. Sarah glanced to the pitch. The Beaters were easily the most baboonish players out on the court. Rose blushed.

"So, tired of your new friends already?" asked Albus, turning his attention back to the practice.

"No," blurted Rose defiantly, "but the Westfold twins are stuck in a particularly violent Wizarding Chess tournament, and Carter is reading some extremely useless novel, full of dragons and monsters." She sighed exasperatedly.

"That sounds useful to me," laughed Sarah. "Maybe not for Muggles, but I'd like to have at least some background information."

"Well yes, but this one was written by a Muggle, so of course it's complete nonsense. Besides, I couldn't gloat to them." Rory laughed, but Albus just rolled his eyes.

"What are you right about this time?" He asked the question in a manner an insolent child might agree to complete a chore, like taking out the trash or doing the dishes.

"This!" exclaimed Rose excitedly, whipping the newspaper out from under her arm so quickly that it smacked Rory in the nose, but none of them seemed to care. Emblazoned across the front cover was an image of black-and-white flames exploding from a dense forest. Critters scurried away through the undergrowth in the foreground, as the jets seemed to rise perpetually higher and higher. Sarah couldn't help but wonder if there was some fuel other than the forest alone, they were simply too massive not to be augmented by explosives.

Titling the paper were the words, "**WILDFIRES OF WIZARDING ORIGIN: FIENDFYRE SUSPECTED**"

"They've finally connected the dots," explained Sarah smugly, "or at least admittedly that they have. The article connects all of the wildfires, and the one in Glasgow, and a new one maybe not more than a hundred miles from here."

"Really?" asked Albus excitedly. "Do you think we'll be able to see it from here?"

Rose turned to Sarah, donning an expression that simply seemed to say "Boys…"

She shook her head though, and replied, "No, it's probably too mountainous. Maybe if they can't control the fire, we'll be able to see the smoke, but the announcement came with an advertisement for volunteer fire-fighters, which should help subdue all these unexpected fires, so hopefully they'll be able to subdue it promptly." She smirked at them.

Rory paused a second, then slowly enunciated, "I...can't believe it. Are you happy about this fire?"

Rose snorted. "Happy? No. Simply pleased that at least someone at the Prophet can use a smidgeon of deduction. And besides, like I said, no one has been harmed, and it's all under control. I'm just glad they finally came to their senses."

"And that you got there first," laughed Sarah. Rose winked, but stood up briskly.

"Well, it's been simply lovely chatting, but I really must be getting back to the school. Wouldn't want to lose the precious ground I've gained in my studies."

"So you came all the way out here just to brag about your intuition?" asked Albus.

Rose scowled. "Not entirely. Fresh air is good for everyone." Albus looked unconvinced.

They turned their attention back to the air, where James was now leading a slow and irate Bludger on a merry chase through the opposing goal posts, the Beaters laughing along. He was laughing merrily, until the flying cannonball began to take out its anger by smashing into the massive loops, sending large wooden splinters in every direction, evidently a more deadly shrapnel than it appeared, as the captain soon called the team to the ground to nurse James and the Beaters back to health.

Rory looked troubled. "Don't worry, they'll be fine. Look, they're barely even bleeding," Sarah assured her. Rory looked up like a deer in the headlights, astonished at being addressed.

"Oh no, I wasn't thinking about them, I was just...I mean not that I'm not concerned about them or anything, I was just..." She paused for a second to get her bearings. She looked rather flurried.

"Oh...You're worried about the Fiendfyre?" asked Sarah. Rory looked a bit guilty. "Well I wouldn't concern myself. Even Voldemort wouldn't dare attack the school till he was sure Dumbledore was gone. And whatever hooligans are starting these fires are no Dark Lord." In the back of her mind, she heard Rose's voice nag, about the rarity, the difficulty of using Fiendfyre, but she dismissed it. Rory nodded, but did not look much comforted.

As the week and month progressed however, Sarah was more frequently the one in need of comfort. Despite her progress with the grip, once the class started on spells, she was abysmal. The class started with exceptionally basic spells, like scooting a feather across a desk, a task Sarah could easily accomplish with her breath, but seemed unable to do with a wand.

She was moderately talented, if a bit lost, in all of her other classes, she was an excellent gardener, an innovative potion-maker, even passably good at Transfiguration, which was infamous for being difficult for new students. It just seemed that she could never combine the grip, the movement, the focus, the incantation to make a good Charm. Professor Dorian certainly did not help either, her eyes always flitting back to Sarah or Rory whenever there was a chance that one of them was messing up.

She had managed to squeeze by for the first few weeks with either showmanship or subtle cheating, like blowing the feather across the desk. But there was a test upcoming, or rather a test-week. A well performed Levitation Spell at any point during the week was some kind of passing grade, a failure to do so was a zero. And even though it was only their first, introductory year, the concept of her efforts being totally worthless mortified Sarah. She set to work practicing constantly.

She swished her wand all throughout Defense Against the Dark Arts, where even the premise of Professor Farbanks controlling the class had disappeared. She practiced her diction and intonation in Herbology, where the Whining Willows they had planted were drowning out most other sound. She practiced her grip all throughout potions, until her wand was finally confiscated until the end of class. She was hard pressed not to stay up late on the week before the exam, the week of Halloween, but remembering her mother's advice, she decided that perhaps in sleep, the magic that she had supposedly locked up somewhere inside of her would finally be seduced out. And besides, she was developing blisters between her thumb and first finger.

And so, carefully skirting James so as to avoid being obligated to listen to his boasting, she slipped up the stairs. She could still hear him gloating about the third-year's upcoming visit to the village as she reached the top of the stairs.

Magic is much more tiring than most wizards realize, but for those who are only just beginning, the effect is exponentially higher. Sarah had hardly murmured her good-nights to Rory and a few of the other girls before she was unconscious.

She had a strange dream that night. Professor Dorian had announced that she had hired a replacement to run the tests. Rory volunteered, which was odd, because she was so quiet, but Professor Dorian completely ignored her, opening the door to reveal Orianna. Sarah had to test first in front of all the students, but every time she swung her wand, instead of making the feather rise, a rope shot out across the room, hanging in suspension. More and more ropes shot out of her wand, and the rest of the students were joining in too, ropes crisscrossing the room like an odd jungle gym. And Orianna was practically skipping around the room, touching her wand to the ropes, and igniting them, the fires quickly spreading up towards the students, who continued casting spells unaware.

Sarah tried to drop her wand, but couldn't. She tried to put out the fire with spells she had heard of, but only more ropes spurt forth from her wand. The fire was on her wand, turning it white-hot, making it vibrate, her arms too were now burning, and Orianna was laughing in her face, but no, it was a different woman, it was Professor Dorian, no, it was an oddly familiar face with black hair, now it was just fire, spreading up her arms and to her...

She awoke, her arms crushed underneath her body weight. She had cut off the circulation, and it did indeed feel like they were burning. She shook her arms out, trying to remember the dream, but like the burning ropes, it was vanishing quickly, and being overtaken by blissful, dreamless sleep.

**Okay everyone! Review time!**


	7. Chapter 7

Today was the big day. The one that counted. Sarah's last chance. It was Friday, the last day of Sarah's thus far unsuccessful test week. If she couldn't produce a passable Levitation Charm by the end of class today, she would be sent to Remedial Charms for the rest of the year, and she didn't think she could stand the humiliation, and the torment of Professor Dorian. Not to mention, she would have to meet with Professor Elihphile, to discuss her magical future, or any reasons she might not be able to produce magic. She ate breakfast numbly, the food seeming to have the texture of a sponge.

"Sarah, I'm sure you'll get it," said Rory, pushing her hair back behind her ear nervously. "I mean, you've practiced much more than I have." It was true, though not by much. And besides, Rory had succeeded in levitating the feather yesterday. Sarah could tell that she was hard pressed not to show her joy, and that she was resisting the urge to levitate every object in the room. But she had been a good friend, and refrained.

"Yeah, and besides, Professor Elihphile is really nice, if you don't end up getting it," added Albus, much less reassuringly. Rory scowled at Albus, subtly trying to let him know how tactless he was.

But to be honest, neither of their encouragements were particularly effective. Whenever Professor Dorian came around to "help", even she was hard-pressed to find errors in Sarah's grip, her movement, or her intonation, but still, there was no magic. Other students were pulling it off with no technique, no effort. And Sarah...well she was just failing. Both at producing the magic, and in class, if she didn't pull off a miracle today.

It was wrecking her self-esteem too, and she could feel it. Her parents had always been encouraging, so generally she had a reasonably high opinion of herself as a person, as a girl, but as a witch, she was completely inadequate. The memories of insults or ill-mannered suggestions from Professor Dorian burrowed through her mind like insidious worms. The feelings she had been getting all week in the class, the building in her chest, like a tingling excitement, but separate from herself, what she had always assumed was the feeling of magic, were now reminders of her shame, not an inner glow of uniqueness.

Fortunately, none of the students had been paying attention to who had successfully cast the spell, or else they would realize that Sarah was the only student to not yet have succeeded. It was a fact that Sarah could see gleaming in Professor Dorian's spiteful eyes, though she had not yet played that card. She was certainly waiting for Sarah's ineptitude to be proven absolute before she really would dig into her.

"So," asked James, sidling up casually. "Where are you all headed today?"

"We're about to head off to Char-" started Albus grumpily, but James cut him off.

"Oh, to class? Boy, that must be rough." He grinned cheekily. "I'll keep you in my memory though, and maybe the extraordinarily good time I'm having will be psychically transferred to all of you."

Sarah sighed as she arose and the four of them exited to the hallway. James had been bragging about this trip all week. All the students who were at least third-years got to take a day off classes and visit Hogsmeade. Normally, these trips were on the weekends, but at the urging of some misguided teacher, the older students got to miss their classes to explore the history of the town. Or at least that was the theory. In practice, a slightly inebriated tour guide would wander around the town barking at everything he saw, while students slipped off to have a free day in the village. It was impressive that the guide was drunk, considering the tour started at around 9:00. Still, The Three Broomsticks did make exceptional mead.

"Ah, the value of education is never higher than when it is an excuse not to learn anything at all," sighed James contentedly. "I'm sure word of our exploits will reach the castle, and that should be enough to tide you over for another...what is it? Oh yes, two years or so."

Albus gave him a death stare, but with a chuckle, he seemed to vanish from the hallway. He always had been a master at the secret passages of the castle.

And suddenly, they were in Charms. Sarah almost gasped at the realization, but she kept her calm. Barely.

Professor Dorian stood at the front of the room, her tight black curls bunched like snakes around her neck. There was a wicked grin on her wide, smiling mouth. She had started the other test days without any forward, but today was an exception.

"Class," she spoke softly, but clearly. "Today is the last day. Though I know most of you have nothing to worry about, those of you who have not yet demonstrated mastery of the simple Levitation Spell should have...well...an interesting hour." The confused class glanced around amidst itself, trying to figure out who still hadn't succeeded. Sarah shrunk back behind Rory and Albus, an action Professor Dorian acknowledged with a haughty eyebrow raise. "It is half past the hour," she snapped, suddenly curt. "You have precisely one hour. Then I understand, due to...teacher supervision of the Hogsmeade trip being absolutely essential," She sneered at the pointlessness of that venture. "You are free for the rest of the day. Those of you who complete the test are in for some relaxation. I believe we can all agree that you need that?" She nodded sympathetically, and Sarah could see signs of assent from much of the class.

Sarah shook her head angrily. The only thing worse than a teacher everyone hated was a teacher that was only hated by one. At least with teachers like Snape, she could have sympathized with the rest of the Gryffindors. But even most of them seemed to think she was a competent teacher, if perhaps a bit cruel. Her eloquence smoothed over any twinges of guilt her classmates felt as she berated her victims.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she ordered the feather, though without much vim. It, as it had wont to do, disobeyed her. She sighed, attempting to show nonchalance to Rory, who looked anxious beside her. Truth be told, she was starting to feel panic clutching indistinctly at her insides. At random moments of failure, or at seeing even the slowest students in the class now reliably levitating feathers, or even weights that had been provided to practice on. And still, she was working with the feather. The clenching in her stomach was especially severe whenever she looked up at the clock. She glanced, and almost...well, she didn't know what, but she certainly gave a strange spasm. It was already nearly straight up, pointed toward the hour. How had so much time gone by?

She refocused her efforts. Rory had entirely given up practice, and was simply standing nearby, offering moral support, though she knew better than to offer advice. Sarah's technique was impeccable, even Professor Dorian couldn't find anything wrong with it when she danced by her. But the fact that she was doing everything right seemed to only please Dorian further. After all, if Sarah didn't succeed even with all the technique in the world, there must be something really internally wrong with her.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Sarah cried again, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. That might have been what was messing her up, she wasn't calm, how could she perform if she was under such pressure? But she hadn't been earlier in the week, and that hadn't been any better. No, it was hopeless. "Wingardium Leviosa," she muttered again, still to no avail.

The clock hand had begun to swing down, like an executioner's axe, ending Sarah's magical career. The rational part of her mind reminded her that this test was fairly meaningless, that in the long term, a year of Remedial Charms wouldn't hurt her record, but her mind seemed trained to see the whole affair as a long, unforgiving slippery slope.

Albus had stopped too, the group of boys fooling with levitation in the back of the class seemed to have finally lost its novelty, and now his friend's distress was more important. Sarah tried not to feel a little bitter. But how could she not, when it was so easy for them, and impossible to her. Not impossible, she reminded herself perfunctorily, as anxiety clutched at her windpipe. "Wingar-" she coughed. Fifteen past. The little knot in the center of her chest was pulsing, expanding, she couldn't control it.

She tried everything, yelling the spell, but that got her nothing but strange looks, as the rest of the class began to figure out that she was the only one whose feather was still stationary. She tried whispers, almost prayer-like, but that did nothing. Her movements were wild, were barely flicks of the wand, but nothing was working. As the dreaded clock hand approached rest at the bottom of its trajectory, Sarah was gasping for breath, trying not to break down. She had never failed a test in her life, and this was it. She wished she knew how to levitate the clock hand, slow down time, though of course, the ability to do so would eliminate her having to do it in the first place.

The panic was now all encompassing, flooding her from her toes to her fingertips, tingling like static electricity. She had to fight the strange feeling that her arms should be lifting up into the air, she felt her hair already was. This was the strangest sensation she had ever felt.

Rory was looking at her strangely, shrinking away from her. A breeze was sweeping through the room, but the day outside was still, and nothing but stagnant, warm air was coming from the windows. And suddenly, it all made sense.

Without a hint of technique, Sarah leveled her wand at the feather and commanded, "Wingardium Leviosa!" And suddenly, the feeling was gone, leaving her strangely empty. The feather remained unmoved.

And suddenly, with a loud bang and a "THWUMP!" Sarah was on the ground, her mouth full of pain and warm, metallic blood. Rory shrieked, rushing to Sarah's side. Albus too, let out a little yell, though he was pointing at the ceiling. Sarah's entire desk was smashing itself against the ceiling, the wood imploding and splintering, the long metal legs twisting and bending like serpents in their attempts to push further against the pull of gravity.

Sarah couldn't open her mouth, tears were springing to her eyes, though she was blinking them rapidly. Her tongue seemed to be bleeding, she must have bit it as the desk slammed into her chin. She couldn't help but feel her jaw must be broken.

"My, my..." laughed Professor Dorian, amused at Sarah's injury. "Well I suppose that is a Levitation Charm, but as for mastery...well...perhaps next year." She laughed nastily.

And suddenly Rory was back on her feet. "That's the best Charm we've seen this entire year!" she exclaimed. "Including yours! I'd like to see you crumple a desk on the ceiling!" Sarah, horror-stricken, tried to tell Rory to be quiet, but an explosion of pain as she tried to move her mouth prevented her from doing much but dribbling a bit of blood down her chin.

Professor Dorian looked taken aback, especially when she noticed that some of the class was nodding along with Rory's statement. "Miss Zyther, I believe the requirements of the test were to lift the _feather_ with the Levitation Charm, not-"

"But that's just what she did! She lifted the feather with the spell, the test never said the spell had to be used on the feather itself!" Rory was almost yelling, but she was possessed with a certain majestic wrath, not simply insolence.

"The parameters were created in order to demonstrate mastery of the incantation and technique, of the magic used, not to simply let the untamed spell force blast out at random intervals like a-"

"But isn't that what it says in the Standard Book of Spells? Miranda Goshawk herself says that a true master doesn't limit their magic with incantations and technique, they simply channel it into their object, which in this case was-"

Professor Dorian interrupted her again, aware that she was quickly losing control of the class. "I do not recall asking you anything about this subject, fifteen points from-"

"Good lord, was that a student?" Professor Dorian's eyes popped in fury at this new disruption. Professor Orgill was standing at the door, ogling the desk, which was now nearly flat against the ceiling, no more than pile of wooden rubble, a few thin metal worms twisting through it.

"Yes," replied Professor Dorian curtly. "This blatant destruction of school property was..."

"By far the best Levitation Charm I've ever seen!" exclaimed Professor Orgill, to Sarah's immense gratitude and Dorian's fury. "I was walking down the hall when I heard the sound...Which student can already..." he spotted Sarah on the ground. "Ah, the work of a Dursley? Say no more." He shook his head knowingly. "I hope you regularly dole out extra credit in this class, because I've never seen a more deserving piece of magic."

"I...but..." replied Professor Dorian in horror and fury.

"Against your policies? Very well, I suppose we all must make our own rules, a full score will be sufficient, won't it?"

Dorian's mouth worked furiously for a few moments. Finally she bit her lip as hard as if it were trying to attack her. "Of course," she conceded, barely keeping the twitching veins in her neck in check.

"Excellent! She does appear to have been a bit roughed up in the attempt, I can hardly blame her. I'll take her down to the hospital wing, my next class has most fortuitously been canceled due to the Hogsmeade trip. You'll pack up her school-things?" he added to Albus, who looked thunder-struck.

And before her mind could catch up to her body, she was walking down the hall behind a cheerful Professor Orgill, whose large strides were a bit difficult with which to keep pace. "Ah yes," he reminisced fondly. "I remember when I first saw your brothers' spell work. A bit...unsophisticated perhaps, but more powerful than anything I had seen before. He was every bit as surprised as I was, I remember." He laughed. Sarah frowned in thought, and quickly regretted it as her jaw twinged. Dustin hadn't mentioned any particular power in his spells.

"Professor Minor was simply furious when she realized he was more interested in History than Charms. I still don't think she's forgiven me, and she's been retired for a few years now. I remember her barging into my office, and informing me that my subject was for what was it? Oh yes, 'You can teach those dolts who can't manage to make it in any useful subject!'" Sarah tried to look offended for him, but her face was oddly paralyzed. He just laughed though. "Of course, as they say, the most important subject is the one you teach. And besides, I can see how they got the idea of an unskilled good for nothing as a expert of History, I mean look at the teacher!" He laughed at himself once more.

"Well," he conceded, slowing down a bit for Sarah to catch up. "At least they can all have you. You certainly seem to enjoy my class, but forgive me if I assume that it's not your primary field of interest." Sarah shook her head slowly. "Ah, I suppose I already knew. Your brother did have a certain...what's the word...vigor, perhaps, is what I'd say. And with your talents, I'm sure you'll make a fine witch no matter your field of study."

"Bu...Prufefor..." Sarah managed to stutter, trying not to dribble blood. "How...ca...I be a good with..." she swallow, grimacing at the taste. "If...i..took...a monf to learn...da spell?"

"Sarah," said Professor Orgill. The setting suddenly seemed very intimate. "It doesn't matter what it takes once you get to your magic. It matters how you use it once you're there. There are sticklers for technique and intonation, and not a single one of them has ever pioneered a major change in magic. No, it's the ones who summon the magic, and let it explore its own will...those are the truly great. Ah!" he yelped, almost walking into a wall. "Here we are. May you have a speedy recovery!"

Sarah had a lot to think about as Madam Pomfrey fussed over her tongue and jaw, dabbing foul tasting liquids onto its surface. The way Professor Orgill described magic, it almost seemed as if it had a mind of its own, as if it were an organism unto itself. Sarah could swear she had only seen one instance of malevolent, willful magic, and it might have been her imagination, but as she gazed out the window, she thought she could see wreaths of smoke on the horizon, twisting themselves into massive, hideous monsters.

The evening was much more calm, at least initially. The story of Sarah's destruction of school property, and getting away with a full grade had spread among the Gryffindors, or at least the one still in the school, mostly first and second years, though there was a small regiment of older students and one forlorn third-year whose parents wouldn't let outside for fear of dangerous allergies.

Rory was anxious when Sarah returned, constantly apologizing for her imaginary faults, which Sarah laughed off, thanking her for standing up to Professor Dorian until reinforcements arrived. Albus still looked a bit shell-shocked, but congratulated Sarah, confused amusement spattered across his face.

"That was an amazing bit off magic!" he shouted as students crowded around Sarah to hear the story from the source. They were generally disappointed, Rory had a much better view of the proceedings, and Sarah didn't bother to describe the magic that she had mistaken for panic welling up inside of her prior to the spell.

When it was just the three of them, Sarah once more thanked Rory, and told them of Professor Orgill's strange council. They both looked mildly troubled by this characterization of magic, but shrugged it off. Albus couldn't seem to get over having such talented friends. "Next time I need help with a charm, I'll know where to turn," he laughed. "And if I need help putting a teacher back in place, I'll know where to look for that too." Rory pushed her hair behind her ears, but grinned.

"Yeah, where did that come from?" asked Sarah. "Since when do you stand up to teachers? Or anyone for that matter?" But even as she said it, she recalled Rory, in front of the entire school, rebuking her sister.

"I...I guess I don't know," she stuttered. She didn't seem used to introspection. "I just perform well under pressure or something."

Albus grinned. "Quick! Rory, the school is on fire, and the only thing that can save it is you doing my Potions essay!" She blushed and scowled at him, but good-naturedly. Sarah shook her head.

"Rory, I believe this was the response you were looking for." And with a resounding "WHAP!" she smacked him upside the head. Albus jumped away, pouting, but Rory laughed.

At their classmates insistence, Sarah repeated her feat for the house. The spell came to her as naturally as if it were breathing. She didn't know what had changed inside her, but now, not only could she lift up massive objects, she could send them zooming around the room at her will, stopping on a pinhead. It was strange to see Newton's First Law of Motion so blatantly disobeyed with no apparent cause, but she was getting used to it. It was a necessity of surviving Hogwarts.

Now that most of the older students were gone, Sarah was beginning to realize how many first and second years there were. Like timid pygmies emerging from their burrows, the small students finally came and socialized in the open, not hidden in their dormitories. Sarah was never really much of one for shame at being young. She was sure that she would look back on this time in five years and be embarrassed by herself, but that was a constant process.

After a little bit of urging, Rory pulled out her deck of cards to teach Rose's friends, most specifically Marcus, the game of Duke's Intrigue. As Cassandra had predicted, he threw himself into the game with the devotion of a zealot. Within two games, he had established himself as a rival to Rory, though never quite her level. If luck was on his side, he would win. Without it, he would invariably lose.

As the night progressed, and Marcus insisted on the continuation of more of this new challenge, three tiers of players were quickly established. Rose and Sarah were invariably out in a few rounds, their cards fodder for the rest of the players. Albus was in close competition with Carter, and, as Marcus and Rory had transcended their level, they mostly played to beat each other. Cassandra was remarkably good at staying unnoticed, and quite often made it to the final three, before being beaten by the top two players.

With each game, Rory introduced a previously unknown rule that she had evidently been saving for people with real devotion. Sarah was beginning to discover how much she had been coddling them with her version on the train. Which was fine obviously. Sarah could hardly keep up with the rules, let alone the strategies. As it grew late, the games were so long and complex that Sarah had time for full games of chess between rounds.

One rare round, she was out after Albus, who had particularly unforgiving cards. He was gazing out the window towards Hogsmeade. The orange sunset was splashing light through the pristine window, covering Albus in strange shadows.

"What's up?" she asked innocently. He sighed.

"Just looking to see if I can pick out James down there. Probably surrounded by a big group of friends and admirers, as always." There was surprising bitterness in his tone.

Sarah couldn't decide on a suitably neutral answer, and simply responded: "Hmm."

Albus shook his head and sighed again. "It's just weird, you know? Every summer, we were the closest friends, did everything together, and now we're here...and suddenly two years seems like a lot. I can't just follow him around like a puppy dog anymore."

"I guess that's part of maturation," offered Sarah. "Gaining your own identity. He still likes having you around, and you can model your behavior off of his, but..."

"Nah," interrupted Albus. "I'm happy who I am. I just wanted to...hold on." He leaned closer to the window, peering out with squinting eyes. Sarah tried to follow his gaze, but it was too hard. "Isn't...isn't that Rory's sister?"

"Orianna? She seems a little old for Hogsmeade visits, and I thought she was supposed to be supervising detention. Maybe it's another blonde girl. Where are you looking?"

"The abandoned part of town. You know, near the old Hog's Head." That was certainly odd. Students didn't normally visit that part of town, except for shady purposes. What was the Head Girl doing there? Sarah was sure that James had mistaken another student for her, but when she spotted where James was pointing, even at a great distance, she could see why Orianna was his first thought.

"Hold on," exclaimed Albus, as if struck by an idea. He dashed up the stairs to his dormitory, though he would be disappointed it he were trying for a better view. Those windows were very dirty.

"Well, he finally did it," laughed Rory, coming up behind Sarah. "He beat me, though I don't know how I was supposed to contend with a full Royal Battalion on the second turn. Want to do one more, or are you done?"

"I think I'm done..." Sarah paused, then ventured. "Rory, did your sister go down to Hogsmeade today?"

Rory looked at her oddly. Since their little spat, the subject of Orianna had been almost untouched. "No, she had to stay and supervise detention, I remember Professor Hornby saying so. Why?"

"Albus says he sees a girl down in the village who looks like her." Sarah did her best to look skeptical, but Rory was suddenly very serious.

"Where?" she demanded, scanning the horizon with hawk-like eyes.

"Over near the-"

"Got it!" exclaimed Albus, stumbling back down the stairs with his telescope. In another moment he plopped it in front of the window and fiddled with a few knobs. "Yes! It is her! I knew it!"

"Let me see," demanded Sarah, feeling something jump in her stomach. Perhaps Rory's theories weren't so unfounded after all? What could she be doing in the slums of Hogsmeade, away from her Head Girl duties? "Hold on...What is she doing?"

Rory had none of Sarah's manners. She grabbed Albus by the shoulders and hefted him away from the telescope into a comfy chair. Sarah spotted an unused telescope across the room, and bounded across to grab it.

"Hey! That's my telescope!" said Albus, affronted. But Rory ignored him. Sarah quickly set up her borrowed telescope, annoyed at the particularly sharp-edged eye piece. She had to scan the back-alleys a few times to focus her telescope on what was so easy to find with the naked eye. Albus was right, Orianna Zyther was standing in the growing darkness, feeling through the air as if blind. Sarah focused the lens a little, and now perceived that Orianna was searching through the empty square with her wand, moving it as if conducting an extremely spasmodic symphony.

"What is she doing?" murmured Sarah looking up for a second, but Rory just gritted her teeth. Whatever she was doing, she seemed to have found success, for she stopped suddenly, and then, like an archer taking an arrow from his quiver, puller her arm away, pulling along with it a faint strand of light, attached to the tip of her wand.

"What's going on?" demanded Albus, searching around for another telescope. The light on her wand seemed not to be coming from Orianna though, it seemed...stuck to her wand at one end, but the other end was so indistinct that Sarah couldn't tell to where it led. With a pernicious grin on her face, Orianna begin twisting her wand around in the air, like a child gathering candy string onto a stick, and, like candy string, more threads of light became visible, large and small, bright and dull, all woven together in a massive cobweb that seemed to be ubiquitous. It was like the web had always been there, Orianna was just now revealing it. After half a minute or so, her wand now no more than a wooden handle connected to a thousand brilliant strings, stretching in every direction like branches of a tree, Orianna stepped back, letting go of her wand. It remained in place, suspended by the glowing tendrils. From her robes, Orianna withdrew a second wand.

"Since when does she have two?" asked Sarah.

"Two what? What does she have?" asked Albus desperately. But no one had time to answer, for as soon as she took out her second wand, she cast a spell of some sort, a bubble growing till it absorbed her body. She reached her wand out, the tip protruding from the surface of her shield, and murmured another word.

Hogsmeade exploded in a dazzle of light, flame, and crackling lightning, a blast so bright Sarah felt her corneas were instantly scarred. Bolts of energy jumped around in the air, striking down at the scattering people. Buildings ignited, the Hog's Head collapsed pathetically. Scrambling figures dove to the ground to avoid the flames and shrapnel raining from the sky, like ants scattering at the attack of a huge foot. Many simply dove into alleys as waves of heat swathed over the town like desert winds.

"JAMES!" screamed Albus, as lighting crackled across the scorched town. The entire school seemed to shake ominously as the shock wave rocked the foundations. There were screams and cries from the rest of the common room as people realized what had happened, then an eerie silence.

Down in the village, people were beginning to slowly pick themselves up, the explosion seemed to have more bark than bite. But Sarah kept her telescope focused. Orianna was no where to be seen, but her wand, that tiny strip of wood stayed levitating in the air, vibrating, white-hot. And suddenly it was gone, splintered into nothingness, a single silvery hair drifting to the ground.

**Review if you liked it! And don't worry, I'm not turning Sarah into a Mary Sue, you'll see where I'm headed with all this eventually.**


	8. Chapter 8

"Well, of course, there were a few unprepared students behind me, wands not even in hand. I had to erect a quick Shield Charm to protect all of us. Yes, yes, it was probably my actions alone that assured there were no casualties in that terrible incident, but, as I always say, a man without his wand in hand is a man naked, and I am no nudist."

"James," sighed Sarah, the next day at breakfast. "Stop exaggerating, they need the exact truth to figure out what happened down there. You don't even know the Shield Charm."

"No barrier to a true wizard," replied James airily. "And besides, it's more or less true. I did warn them to duck, when I saw the wall of flame shooting forth at us." The whole of the student body had been shut up in their dormitories all night, wildly speculating how the town had, for lack of a better term, exploded. There were no deaths, or even serious injuries, except for Madam Rosmerta the elder, who had suffered a heart attack and was recovering in St. Mungo's, leaving the bar in charge of her very pretty daughter, much to the delight of the older students.

The atmosphere was as excited and festive as if a school wide dance had been announced, instead of a dangerous attack on the village. Without serious consequences, it was regarded as no more than an exceptional bit of adventure. A bit of drama and mystery was perfect to help students get through the long weeks of classes between holidays, and this was a perfect example.

The Gryffindors were clustered together in closer knots than usual around the table, and the buzzing that always filled the hall had a rather higher pitch than normal. Rory and Albus sat on the other side of Sarah, both stony-faced. None of them had the time to discuss the events of last night, with all the excitement of the evacuation, and the insistence on an immediate bedtime, so Sarah couldn't quite figure out what each meant by their silence.

James had obviously noticed their unusual reaction, and asked, "Say, you two are seeming a bit less than chipper, what's eating you?" But before either of them could come up with a suitable answer, they were interrupted by Professor Elihphile, who had stood up in front of the school, sombre for the first time in Sarah's memory.

"Attention, students." The hubbub as quickly as if it were coming from a stereo that had just been unplugged. He looked grimly around. "Due to recent occurrences in the village of Hogsmeade, it behooves me to offer a short account of transactions leading to the events of last night, in order to dispel any unfortunate rumours." He paused, as if waiting for such rumours to display themselves, but conversation remained minimal.

"The village of Hogsmeade has been..." he paused once more, glancing around at the teachers, some who nodded, others who looked disapproving. "Well, the exact situation is a matter of dispute. It seems to have either been the victim of an impossibly rare magical accident, or it has been attacked."

"An equally impossible event," harrumphed Professor Hornby. Elihphile ignored him.

"Of this I encourage you to form your own opinions, compelling evidence for either position should be brought to me or my deputy headmaster, Professor Hornby." Rory glanced guiltily at Sarah. "Regardless, the method of the explosion was the magical ignition of remnants of Voldemort's Caterwauling Charm, a spell that, while removed, was never scrubbed from the magical background, leaving a very unstable, inactive spell. Despite its instability, it most likely would have faded away without incident, save for some kind of magical spark that reactivated the spell last night. Combined with the countless magical trails of spells, both sanctioned and illicit, that had been cast in the village over the centuries, created a magical explosion of extremely rare proportions. All of these traces were extremely flammable, and are now absent."

"Wait, so Hogsmeade has no magic in it anymore?" called a voice from Ravenclaw.

Professor Elihphile attempted to discern the speaker so as to address them directly, but they had faded back into the mass of students. "Yes, I believe that is correct. As you may have seen, the structurally unsound Hog's Head tavern collapsed, without the influence of Support Charms, it couldn't carry it's own weight. A lesson, perhaps, not to rely on magic to the point of dependency." He winked at some of the teachers, who seemed mortified at the idea.

Another voice called from the crowd timorously, "Could they blow up the school?"

Once again, Professor Elihphile searched in vain for the speaker. "Indeed, if this were indeed an attack, as some of us believe, the school would in fact, be in particular danger. A place so deeply ingrained with magic as Hogwarts, combined with the trails of magic left by nearly a millennium of students, indeed, Hogwarts would be excessively vulnerable to an attack by cannibalistic magic." He gazed sternly over the crowd, waiting for the effect of his words to sink in, then dismissed unnecessary fears, "However, such magic is extremely difficult to use, and probably not a valid concern. I have, officially at least, been forced to agree that the events in Hogsmeade were merely an improbable accident."

And suddenly, Sarah felt a dull 'thunk' in her stomach. Something about Elihphile's words stirred old memories in her, memories she didn't know she had. And one more link fell into place in her head.

"Rory," she hissed. "We need to talk. Now." Rory nodded, and arose. Albus stood as well. Already close friends, the three of them had, last night shared a secret more dangerous than any mere relationship, they were in this together.

They quickly found a moderately large broom closet, though three of them inside made it quite intimate. Sarah opened her mouth, but realized that she didn't really have anywhere to start. "I guess...well...there are some things we need to figure out."

"Yeah," replied Rory, suddenly fiery. "Like how to stop my sister."

"Hold on there," cautioned Sarah. "We don't even know what she's doing. And don't you think that maybe this might be a matter for more experienced witches and wizards?"

Albus gave her a strange look, as if she were the one suggesting undertaking a dangerous radical campaign against a powerful family member. "Sarah, you don't think anyone is going to take us seriously? We've got nothing against her but our testimonies. And she's a seventh year, and Head Girl to boot."

"Well," stuttered Sarah, "Maybe we could find other witnesses. Wasn't she supposed to be supervising detention? We can find whoever is in there, and they'll back us up. They didn't see the village, but they saw her leave."

"See, that's the thing," interrupted Albus. "They didn't. She was there the whole time."

"What?" asked Sarah and Rory simultaneously. "Why didn't you tell us?" added Rory.

Albus winced. "I only just heard it last night," he explained, "Fred was complaining about not being able to see the explosion, since he was in detention. I remembered how she was supposed to be there, and asked him about it...and he said she hadn't left for a second."

They stood in silence for a minute. It was hard to say something after that. "Well...maybe he wasn't paying attention. Did he fall asleep?" demanded Rory.

"No, I thought the same, and he said that she made sure he couldn't. Said that would be escaping his punishment."

"Well, maybe she Confunded him," suggested Sarah.

Albus shrugged, "I suppose, but those things last quite a while, and he seemed clear enough to me." Once again, no one spoke for a couple moments.

"So...I guess there's no chance I can convince you to just stand by and hope that some people with real authority handle it by yourself."

"She's my sister." Rory was glaring at Sarah as if she were a traitor by the mere suggestion. "I have to stop her, it's my duty." Sarah turned to Albus pleadingly, but he just laughed.

"Sarah," he chuckled. "I'm a Potter. This is what we do." Sarah repressed an urge to roll her eyes. This was too serious of a situation, especially in light of what she was about to say. It had been gnawing in her stomach since breakfast.

"Well...if you're certain...I might have some disturbing new..." she struggled for the word. "...insight into Orianna's plan." Rory was wide-eyed, but extremely determined. "Have you...have you ever heard of that cannibalistic magic Professor Elihphile was talking about?" Rory shook her head. "Not even a passing mention?" she turned to Albus, who had, by his large amount of wizarding relations, a greater chance of random magical facts. But he too, was blank.

"As it turns out...I have," revealed Sarah.

"Really? What is it?" asked Rory, her face bright with excitement.

"I...I..." This was an interesting reversal, normally Rory was the one stuttering and Sarah was the one calm and confident. "I actually heard about it from your dad, Albus."

"Dad?" asked Albus, confused. "When have you guys had a real conversation, you know, about magic and stuff."

"Four years ago," informed Sarah grimly. "After my dad pulled me out the burning house. Do you remember why that house was burning?" And suddenly it dawned on Albus, his face changing from knowing clarity, to grim horror.

"What?" inquired Rory. "Why was it burning?"

Albus and Sarah looked at each other, almost hesitant to say out loud the conclusion they had both reached. "Because a witch, Brista Fang, had set it alight...with Fiendfyre."

Rory gasped. "And...and...you think...Orianna is starting all these Fiendfyres across the country?"

Sarah nodded. "Rose was telling me that the one I was in was the first confirmed Fiendfyre since Voldemort, and there hasn't been one since till these last few months. Now your sister knows a spell that can consume magic just like Fiendfyre?"

"That's it, Sarah, it's got to be!" exclaimed Albus gleefully.

Rory still looked confused. "Then...why didn't the entire village get set on fire? Other than the initial explosion, there was nothing there."

Sarah furrowed her brow, but couldn't think of why. "Maybe all the practice has helped her control it?" she ventured. But, given her experience with Fiendfyre, it seemed very unlikely a seventeen -year-old witch could even start the flame, let alone stop it. Control of the flame had to be possible, there had been people in the distant past who could use it as a weapon, but for a barely-of-age witch?

"Maybe," agreed Albus hesitantly. Sarah checked her watch. They only had a few minutes, and that was if they ran to class.

"Well, if we're really going to stop her, we need somewhere to start. Any leads, however remote?"

"The little brown thing, the one she dropped at the station!" Rory looked as if she had been dying to investigate the object for weeks, and finally had the oppurtunity.

Sarah frowned. "I thought we agreed that was a dead end."

"Well we weren't exactly trying very hard, were we?" asked Albus. "I know I sound like Rose to be saying this, but we haven't even taken it to any teachers yet, one of them is bound to know what it is if it really is something important and sinister."

Sarah paused. She knew there was something wrong in that logic, and she finally found it. "And if it is something important and sinister, how are we going to explain a bunch of first years stumbling upon it? We'd have to accuse Orianna, and she's certain to hide her...whatever those little things are more carefully now."

That stumped Albus for a minute, but class was approaching, so the three of them had to leave the closet and jog down the hall, avoiding jostling the older students. "Well, we can always say that it wasn't ours. We found it in the hall, or an older student gave it to us. Other than that though, I think we just have to take a risk, and ask the least threatening teacher we know," suggested Rory as they slipped into the noisy class.

"Hagrid!" exclaimed Albus. "We haven't been to see him for a while, and maybe with all his experience..." He trailed off, but Hagrid wasn't of whom Sarah had been thinking. Her mind had jumped to Professor Orgill. Something about his aura of gentle academia, respectfully knowledgeable. Maybe if Hagrid didn't know.

Hagrid didn't know. He was delighted to see them when they showed up later in the week, but he didn't know. As he had the times before, he tried desperately to remember where he had heard the last name "Dursley" before, but Sarah preferred his ignorance.

They left his cabin in considerably better spirits than they had entered. It was hard to take conspiracy and evil seriously after spending an hour or so chatting with Hagrid. They had agreed that if Hagrid couldn't figure out the origins of the little ball, they would turn to Professor Orgill, but now that didn't seem such a pressing need. Especially now that vacations were done for a while, and the workload was heating up.

Sarah excelling in all her subjects, except for Charms, in which she had fallen into a pattern. She would fail at every new spell for weeks, quietly enduring the mockery of Dorian and some classmates, when, completely unexpectedly, she would suddenly have the charm mastered, though usually not controllable. There had been a few nasty incidents, but nothing permanent, and other students consoled her afterward, telling her stories of relations or friends who had followed similar patterns.

"Besides," assured James after one such class, "Now Bulfang's head is as big in reality as it always has been in metaphor." Sarah shuddered. That Engorgement Charm had been particularly nasty. Though James was right, he had deserved it. She wondered if she had been able to perform the charm specifically because he was being so annoying.

Before they knew it, snow had begun to fall. The first storm seemed to hang in the air for ages, the dense air slowing the flakes down so much that they seemed to be almost floating in the air. Only by watching the movement of the whole storm could any progress seen.

As November progressed, the Orianna's object gradually drifted to the back of their minds. Hogsmeade had been mostly repaired, Madame Rosmerta was back, and Orianna spent most of her time away in the Slytherin Common Room. Only the old Hog's Head stood as a relic to the attack.

Aberforth was miraculously still alive, though he hadn't been in the building at the time. He had lived away in warmer climates for quite some time, and now wasn't even cognizant enough to sign the order to rebuild the old place. So it stood there in ruins, picked clean by scavengers like Mundungus Fletcher. He had long ago retired, or so he said, but he also seemed it would be an insult to Aberforth to not protect the most valuable of his possessions from the "lower class of scavengers".

And then Professor Hornby posted the list for students staying over Christmas. Sarah was astounded how quickly time had passes. It had been more than a month from the attack and they were no closer to learning Orianna's object than the second they saw her in the village.

Rory was clearly thinking more about it Sarah or Albus more, so, as a service to her, Sarah was the one who reintroduced the topic.

"Guys," she said one evening in the common room over a game of cards. "We need to get on top of asking Professor Orgill about that little thing." Rory nodded grimly.

"I think we should just set a deadline," she suggested. "Obviously there's no one to enforce it, but otherwise we're not going to ever get it done."

Albus nodded. "Well, we should definitely do it before Christmas. We don't want that hanging over our heads while we're opening gifts and all."

"What if it's even worse news than we thought?" asked Sarah. "Wouldn't that hang over our heads even more?" Albus shrugged. "But incidentally I agree with you," she continued. "There aren't any other major landmarks coming up, so this is the best we've got."

Rory looked a little disappointed. "Really? That's still pretty far. Can't we do it sooner?"

"I still have to butter Professor Orgill up," Sarah reminded her.

"Not much," said Albus. "Your brother has already done that for you."

Sarah was about to snap back, but had to shrug and agree. Besides, as she had been realizing in his class, the best way to butter him up was to act as herself. He was very annoyed by students who tried to kiss up to him on purpose. It was amusing to see, because he was such a genial man normally.

Albus leaned back in his chair, dropping his last cards in defeat. Sarah was rather impressed she had outlasted him. "So, what are you lot getting for Christmas?" he asked unthinkingly. Even Albus normally had enough tact not to talk about getting gifts from loving parents in front of Rory, who probably was not getting much.

"I'm getting the new spin-wing attachment for my broom," he continued, lost in his own fantasy. "They pop out when you press a button, and make rolls so tight that you have to sign a waiver before you use them, because they've thrown so many people off. Of course, my dad put a Catching Charm on my FireStreak, so he's not too worried."

"I expect I'm not getting anything," said Rory ambivalently. Albus stopped, his face falling slightly. Rory was not accustomed to sharing details of her personal life, so this was a step for her. "Now that I'm at Hogwarts, I expect it's good riddance from my family."

"They...they don't just ignore you, do they?" asked Sarah hesitantly.

Sarah shrugged, attempting indifference. It almost worked, but Sarah could hear an unstable overtone. "They didn't get me anything while I was home, why get me things when I'm here?"

"You're planning on staying for Christmas?" asked Albus. It seemed a very foreign concept to him, despite the fact that his father had spent nearly every Christmas at the school.

"Yeah," sighed Rory. "I don't really have much to go home to, now that the elves aren't allowed to talk to me."

"Your parents have elves?" asked Sarah, hoping to steer the conversation at least a bit away from unpleasant lack of gifts.

Rory looked confused. "No...Oh, that's right, I...I haven't told you. Well I don't live with my parents, I live with my grandmother. We had a big fight when I was eight and I packed up my stuff and ran away."

There was a stunned silence. "And...and they just let you go?" said Sarah, trying to sort her thoughts into sentences.

"Well, they could hardly back down on values held since the beginning of wizardry itself, could they?" She spoke most of the sentence in a low, mockingly pompous voice.

"Is your grandma better, at least?" asked Albus hopefully.

"Oh no, she's much worse," replied Rory with an attempt at a casual laugh. "I only went to her out of desperation and starvation and such. She's pretty much invalid at this point though, she didn't know I was in the house until I was ten. Mostly I just took from the pantry and spent time with the house elves. They're very nice little creatures, aren't they?"

"I'm afraid I've never met one," admitted Sarah.

"Well they made my life at least bearable, until my grandma found out, and forbid them to talk to me. She didn't quite have the heart to throw me out." She paused, thinking. "Well, either that, or she thought that I would try to kill her if she had me evicted, and then the house and the elves would be mine." Sarah laughed nervously, but Rory simply raised her eyebrow. She wasn't kidding.

Albus looked slightly affronted by the whole concept. "So you're staying here alone for Christmas?"

Rory sighed heavily. "Yeah, I guess so. But honestly, it's not that bad. I prefer it here to that big, depressing empty house, trust me." Albus shook his head angrily.

"No, you're not. You're coming back to my house for Christmas, we can give you at least a proper Christmas meal."

"Yeah!" chimed in Sarah, "And stop by my place too! Harry can get you there in a flash, so it'll be easy."

Rory looked confused. "You...you'd let me stay with you?"

This time Sarah's laughter was genuine. "Rory, we've been living in the same room for the last couple months, why would it suddenly bother me to hang out with you over break too?"

"And...and...your parents?" asked Rory weakly, seeming worn out by the very idea.

"Won't even notice you," assured Albus. "They can't even keep track of people who are genetically related to them, with friends and everyone else accounted for, I'd be surprised if they gave you a second look."

"And my parents are just the opposite, they always want more people over for Christmas," added Sarah.

"I...you...well, you'll write them first, right? Let them know I'm coming, and make sure I'm not an inconvenience."

"You won't be, but I'll ask," replied Albus.

"Th...thanks." Rory sniffed loudly, and Sarah suddenly realized that her eyes were very watery. "I...I think I'm going to sleep now. Bu...but I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," said Albus, shifting uncomfortably as he saw how much his offer had affected her. "Good night."

"Good night."

"Good night," finished Sarah as Rory waved over her shoulder, wiping her face on her sleeve.

There was a moment's silence. "What was up with her?" asked Albus carefully.

"Oh, she's allergic to Pygmy Puffs. Victoire's over there has been bothering her all night," Sarah lied nonchalantly.

But later that night, as climbed into her bed, she thought she heard Rory whisper, "Thanks, Sarah." Maybe Rory could finally have a good Christmas, she thought hopefully.

But before they could even begin contemplating relaxation, they had one more little issue to deal with, she thought, as she gazed at Rory's desk, in which rested a small brown rock.

**Okay everyone, review time!**


	9. Chapter 9

Before they could all enjoy Christmas, there was one last thing the three of them had to do. Sarah had subtly been trying to butter up Professor Orgill, but was finding it extremely difficult not to be drawn in by his incredibly charismatic personality, and revert to her normal self. But that seemed to be what he liked and engaged with, so Rory and Albus couldn't complain. They had agreed that she would be the only one to stay after, lowering the stakes. It would be easier to treat the thing casually if it were just one student asking an idle question, not three submitting a serious inquiry.

They had also come up with a few origin stories that Sarah had to memorize, depending on how he reacted to it. If it were dangerous, she would say one of the Slytherins tried to give it to her, if it were fun, it would be James. If it were really serious, she could say that somehow she had gotten it from Harry, he worked with that kind of dangerous stuff all the time, though that was a final option, Albus reminded them. His dad could get in some dire trouble if artifacts were escaping his office.

Being typical procrastinators, it was on the last day of classes that they finally agreed Sarah would ask Professor Orgill. It was especially convenient, because the size of the class was cut nearly in half. Due to the recent rash of Fiendfyres, some of them near the tracks of the Hogwarts Express, the board of governors had decided that students would be sent home via Floo Powder. Most students were so eager to get home for the holidays that they signed up for earlier days, and those who had no particular hurry to get out, like Sarah, were left behind.

There were only eight students in class that day, including Sarah. Rory and Albus were there, as was Carter, though he was never very engaging in class. He paid attention, but it always looked like he was extremely zoned out.

And, before she could even process any of the lesson, class was over. Professor Orgill even let them out early, as there were so few of them. Some of the teachers were gone for vacation already as well, meaning that they were all done for the day. The opportunity just didn't get any better than that.

So, Sarah dropped her books as the rest of the class was leaving. Albus patted her on the back as they went, but other than that, no one acknowledged her.

Professor Orgill was reading some papers submitted by his students at his desk, a disbelieving grin on his face. "It's amazing what some students think they can get away with," he laughed. "Eh, Sarah?" He turned to her, even though she was still picking up her quill. "You're not quite as subtle as you think. What were you going to ask me?"

Sarah laughed at his insight, but admitted that she had stayed behind to ask him something. Suddenly, for the first time, she felt a stab of fear through her insides. Though she was glad that it was Professor Orgill she was showing the little thing to, she also realized that the stakes were much higher. If it didn't go well, not only would they be no better, but she would have lost the favor of her best teacher. But it was too late to lie now.

"I...I actually have a little...thing...probably of magical nature that I don't know what it is, and I was wondering if you knew." She mentally kicked herself. Showing outward signs of discomfort like stuttering was the worst thing she could do.

"And your friends couldn't figure it out?" asked Professor Orgill sagely. Sarah shook her head. "Even the seventh-years?" Sarah nodded. "Well, let's see it!"

Sarah withdrew the reddish-brown thing from her pocket. Professor Orgill extended his hand, and she dropped it in. He held it up to the light, and examined it from every angle.

"Hmmm..." he mused. "And this isn't yours?"

"No," replied Sarah, hoping he wouldn't ask the obvious next question, of whose it was.

He didn't. "Well, technically I'm supposed to confiscate this...but I think I can make an exception here."

"Wh...Why? Is it dangerous?" asked Sarah timorously.

"Probably not...almost definitely not, it would have dissolved the coating...Poisonous, maybe, dangerous less likely, though I'd have to ask Professor Hornby, and even he might not be able to tell..."

It seemed a shame to interrupt his stream of thought, but Sarah felt like she had to ask. "Wait, poisonous but not dangerous? How does that make any sense? Are you supposed to eat it?"

"Not overly dangerous I mean. The really dangerous stuff will melt right through and drip all over the floor, even just having it is a hazard. This one is at least safe enough to stay within the coating, though I wouldn't go eating it."

"You wouldn't what?" asked Sarah now thoroughly confused. "What is this thing?"

"It's a potion pill," he informed her matter-of-factly. "I thought that was obvious, and you were just coming to see if I could figure out what was inside. But, judging by the look on your face, you didn't even know that. I can't really blame you, they were really only popular right at the turn of the millennium."

"Why's that?" asked Sarah, not sure it the answer was relevant, but at least trying to keep the conversation going.

"It only works with a few kinds of brews," explained Professor Orgill. "Some of the more delicate potions are denatured by the plastic shell, or by the lack of oxygen, while some of the stronger melt right through it if not taken quickly enough. There aren't that many potions that work in pill form, and even among those, not many are popular. Generally, wizards have an aversion to Muggle technology, and it really isn't any better than taking the potion in its normal form."

"Oh, okay." They stood in silence for a second as he still tried to peer through the pill.

"Well!" he said suddenly, as he dropped the pill back into her hand, "Does that clear up your question?" Sarah nodded fervently. True, it wasn't much of a lead, but maybe if they could cut open the pill, they could identify the potion and figure out what Orianna was doing. It would at least be enough to appease Albus and Rory for now, and not leave too big of a shadow hanging over their heads during Christmas Break.

"Yes sir," she replied. "And there's no way to figure out what is inside?"

Professor Orgill shrugged. "Not that I know of, other than eating it, and I might have to rethink confiscating it if you're considering that."

Sarah shook her head. "No sir, just an issue of curiosity."

"Well then run along, I'm sure you have beter things to do with your vacation time than hang around with an old geezer like me," he winked as he said it. Sarah laughed as she left. Professor Orgill couldn't be more than thirty-five, but age was always comparative. When she was old, or at least, middle-aged, she too would probably lord it over eleven year olds.

She was practically skipping as she headed back to the common room, where Albus and Rory would be waiting for her. She eagerly rounded the corner, and...

Suddenly she was in a dark room, pain exploding from one side of her body, and the corner of her head, which she had slammed into a shelf. For a second she thought she had taken the turn too fast, and slipped, until she felt something poke into her throat. She jumped back instinctively, scrambling in the dark, brooms and cleaning supplies falling around her, but her back was against the wall, and she succeeded in nothing more than smashing her arms and legs into several very solid objects, and one soft one.

She tried to focus on what was in front of her, but her eyes had yet to adjust to the light of the closet. And once again she felt the stab of something sharp against her neck. She couldn't think, her head felt like it was being encased in layers of rich liquid, blocking out all thought from her conscious mind. There was a faint but violent hissing somewhere in front of her, and she felt hot, rank breath against her forehead.

She blinked a few times, and suddenly, she identified her assailant. Orianna Zyther stood in front of her twisting her head so as to see Sarah at ever angle, a mad, fiery glint in her eyes. One of her hands was holding the wand to Sarah's neck, the other was awkwardly stroking her body, as if it had a mind of its own.

"You!"

"Yes..." she whispered, at first seeming like an answer to Sarah's accusation, though she continued, proving she was completely absorbed in her own world. "It is you...I wouldn't have believed what she said if I weren't seeing it now..." She ran her hand up Sarah's arm and across her face, like a blind woman. Sarah tried to recoil in disgust, but she couldn't, not with the wand at her neck and the wall at her back.

She must have bodyslammed Sarah as she rounded the corner, knocking her into the closet, but why? If she were trying to send a message, she could have done it with her authority alone; there was no need to resort to violence. It was stupid, insane, too dumb for the clever schemer Rory had made Orianna out to be.

"Hmmm...Interesting, interesting," repeated Orianna, like a mad scientist. "Perhaps an extra variable would be good for the experiment...NO! NO!" she yelped. Sarah hoped someone was near, Orianna was being loud enough to be heard. "Interest alone isn't enough, we need to protect ourselves, idle curiosity is a sin," she said the words as if they were a mantra. "If it were up to me, we'd kill, her, and never let her be found!"

Sarah squirmed, but she was on her tiptoes, trying to keep away from the point of the wand. Orianna, seeming to notice Sarah for the first time, focused her eyes right on Sarah's and didn't look away. She didn't have the common courtesy to ever break eye contact, and there was an unnatural glint of madness in her eyes. It was very uncomfortable, like staring into the abyss, and knowing it was staring straight back.

"Look, look how it can see," she murmurred to no one in particular. "She opens her eyes just like anyone else, but we could change that, just a flick, and they'd be closed, closed forever. But what if she didn't close them? Then they'd be open, and there'd be nothing there, and how could we close them? NO! NO!" She shuddered violently.

Sarah was half-trying to get some spark of coherence out of Orianna's out of character and nonsensical speech, but she was too concerned about not being killed. "If...if you do anything to me, they can track you! They can find your wand!"

And, as suddenly as an actress breaking character, Orianna straightened. "I'm surprised you can still talk," she laughed. Why wouldn't she have been able to talk? Orianna must have gone insane, that was the only explanation. "But no matter. I'm just here to warn you. If you even think about what we're doing, try to figure it out yourself, I'll kill you, and your friends. Your parents, too, while I'm at it," she added as an afterthought. "As a matter of fact, I'd do it now, if I were allowed to."

"But they can trace your wand! It's stupid!" Sarah knew she probably shouldn't be insulting this dangerous and probably mad woman, but how could she not look at this logically?

But Orianna just laughed. There was a note of malicious superciliousness in the noise, the laughter of evil that has captured innocence. She suddenly pulled very close and whispered in Sarah's ear: "What makes you think I'd use magic?" She laughed again, and pulled back, letting Sarah finally relax onto her feet.

She waved mockingly as she slipped out the door, and with a horrible jerk in her stomach, Sarah realized that she was not holding a wand, but a wicked, narrow knife, perhaps a quarter of a meter long. Sarah felt at her neck disbelievingly. When she pulled away her hand, there was a slim trail of blood.

She didn't know how she managed to stumble her way back to the dormitory, but when she made it in, the common room was almost deserted, except for Albus and Rory, and a few sixth years playing Exploding Snap in the back corner.

"How did it go?" asked Rory. "Did you find out..." she stopped. "Sarah! What happened?"

Sarah laughed queasily. "Is it that apparent?" Even Albus looked concerned.

"When I was walking back from Professor Orgill's room, I was, oh the little thing is a potion pill by the way, he told me that..." Sarah paused. Hitting her head on the shelf was still messing with her thought processing. "Maybe I better start from the beginning."

They were a very good audience, but Rory just looked confused when Sarah revealed that her attacker was Orianna. "She...she wouldn't. I'm not saying it's beneath her...It's just dumb, she's too smart for that, why would she do that?"

"I thought the same thing, but she was definitely your sister, or her evil twin. Or, more evil at least." She told them what Orianna had said, her mad rants as far as Sarah could remember, and the way she had suddenly reverted to sanity.

Rory shuddered at the mention of the knife, but Albus was almost in denial. Being brought up in a wizard family, even the concept of using anything but a wand to kill people was disgusting. "I mean, I knew Muggles did it and everything...I guess I just never really thought it was a part of our world. Hogwarts, I mean, and magic. It's just...sadistic is what it is."

"There was one other thing, she said she would kill me right then and there, except that she wasn't allowed to," said Sarah. The other two thought about it for a minute, but Sarah continued before they could come to any conclusions. "It seems to me, there have to be accomplices, or she's just an accomplice herself. Because if fear of getting caught, or the basic..." she thought, trying to capture an appropriate term, "wrongness of killing a human being isn't enough to prevent her from killing me, then what, or who is?"

Rory pushed her hair behind her ear and nodded. "That makes more sense too. If she were alone in starting all these Fiendfyres, she would have to be leaving the castle for pretty long periods of time, and she always seems to be at breakfast."

"Though maybe we should start watching her more closely then," interjected Albus. Rory and Sarah nodded.

"You should really head down to the hospital wing," said Rory, but she had an odd expression on her face, as if something disturbing had just occurred to her.

"Why? I'd prefer not to have to pretend I fell into a door and got beat up just to get a couple bandages."

Rory nodded, but countered: "True, but it'd be much easier to lie to Madam Pomfrey and get her to pretty you back up than to lie to Albus's dad, and your parents, who you'll be seeing tomorrow." Sarah bit her lip, but had to agree.

"Albus, you walk her down, for safety. I...I think I'm going to bed."

Sarah was a bit skeptical. "Really? Already?"

"I've not been feeling well today, I think I should probably sleep."

Albus looked at her and shrugged, but the two of them ventured back outside. They didn't talk much on the way down, the castle seemed to take on a new air to Sarah. Every corner was a dangerous mystery now, and she jumped at every snoring portrait, or gliding ghost. She shook her head, trying to relieve herself of these notions. This couldn't become a permanent impairment. She couldn't let one cruel Head Girl ruin the halls of the castle for her.

Madam Pomfrey was fussy and suspicious, but Sarah was so polite to her that she didn't investigate fully. She just treated most of the wounds, checked on Sarah's healing tongue, gave some basic cognition tests to see if the knock on her head had done any damage, and sent her on her way with a sense of satisfaction.

And so in minutes, they were back in the dormitory. Even the sixth years had left now, leaving the fire dying mournfully. Albus yawned, flashing his pearly teeth. "I think this would be a good time to head to sleep. Rory had the right idea." Sarah nodded. "Though I have to wonder, why was she suddenly so tired? She was really excited before you came up, she couldn't stop speculating."

Sarah shrugged. "Surprises do weird things to people. Besides, she looked troubled by the news. Still a little troubling to me. I guess she just wanted to be alone with her thoughts. I can't blame her-"

But she was interrupted by a shrill scream issuing from the girl's dormitories. Sarah and Albus locked eyes for a second, and an invisible spark jumped between them. They rushed to the staircase, Sarah was halfway up before Albus tried to get on, turning the whole thing into a slide. Sarah managed to lunge to the top before it slid away from under her.

Older girls were emerging from their dormitories as well, poking their heads out in annoyance or concern, but Sarah reached the furthest dorm first. She wrenched open the door, but the lights were all out, wild sobbing mixed with hyperventilation issuing from the back corner. Reaching into her robes, she grabbed her wand and breathed: "Lumos!" Light flooded the room, blinding her for a second.

She blinked a few times to clear her eyes. There was a pile of blankets in the far corner, almost hidden behind the bed from which the sound was coming. Sarah dashed over.

"Rory!" she said. "What's wrong?" She tried to yank the blankets away, but thin, long fingers were pulling them back. Longer than Rory's, Sarah noticed with some concern. "Rory?" but the pile just coughed, sobbing louder and more desperately. With a final almighty heave, Sarah whipped the blanket away from the figure crouched in the corner.

But it wasn't Rory. For the second time today, Sarah found herself inexplicably looking at Orianna Zyther.

There was half a second where Sarah's lungs and stomach seemed to be filling with lead, until she settled upon an appropriate reaction."Again?" shrieked Sarah, stumbling backwards, completely forgetting her wand and looking for something heavy to use as a weapon. She grabbed a lamp from a nearby bedstand, and raised it over her head.

"No! Sarah! Sarah! It's not me!" insisted Orianna, shrinking back from the lamp. "I mean, it is me! It's me!" Sarah froze, about to strike. There was still a wild glint in Orianna's eye, but this one was of fear and desperation, not sadism. She struggled mentally for a few seconds. There was no way Orianna was up here, in the Gryffindor Dormitories, there was no logical reason, the only person who was up here was...

"Rory?" asked Sarah. Orianna nodded slowly, terror etched into her face. Sarah didn't even have the strength to ask what was going on. She just dropped the lamp, which cracked as it hit the ground. She slumped to the ground.

"Sarah...I...I took the pill."

And with no sense of catharsis, one more cog dropped into place.

"Polyjuice Potion," whispered Sarah.

**Review time! Also, I looked at the traffic stats for this story and all of mine and I get the most traffic on Saturdays, so that's when I'm going to start updating, as of next week. See ya!**


	10. Chapter 10

Sarah managed to keep the other girls away from the dorm, explaining that Rory had tried to hex a pimple off and had accidently made it proliferate, and she didn't really want anyone to see her. Over the next hour, Rory slowly lost the appearance of Orianna, morphing back into herself. It was distrubing to watch because the similarities in the sister's appearances made it so that sometimes Sarah couldn't figure out which one she was looking at.

Rory was still distraught. Seeing herself turned into what she had fought against her whole life, even if it were only physically, was emotionally scarring.

Sarah had a hard time controlling her temper that night. It had been a long and problematic day, and Rory taking the pill had not helped, even if they did now know what was inside. She felt like a mother for thinking it, but the pill could have been poisonous, and Rory had sent them away before she took it, almost to make sure she wouldn't get help if she needed it. The irresponsibility of the whole affair astounded her. And, to top the debacle off, they didn't have the pill anymore, the only evidence of what Orianna was doing. True, they knew what she was doing, and Sarah couldn't quite decide if they were better off now, but that the decision had been made without consulting her or Albus felt like a betrayal. She would have snapped at Rory the whole night, but Rory's emotional state seemed fragile enough as it was. She contented herself with simply not speaking to her.

Rory seemed to understand. Once she had turned back into herself, she did nothing but lie face-up on her bed, not even under the covers. Sleep was a forlorn hope. Sarah suddenly remembered that Albus was still waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She quickly descended to tell him the developments.

They left for the holidays the next day. Sarah had been right, coincidentally, about the truth of the pill hanging over them for the vacation. A few of the adults commented on their foul moods, out of concern or playful mockery, but the three of them tried to put on cheerful faces whenever anyone was around, only letting their real worries show when the adults were gone.

True, even the most diabolical plans can't ruin the magic of Christmas, and there were certainly fun moments, times when they forgot all of their troubles and reveled in friendship and family. Rory, despite being most concerned about Orianna, was also much touched by the Weasley's acceptance of her into the family dynamic. Sarah couldn't help but wonder a little guiltily if Rory had ever had real Christmas presents.

Dudley and Kate, Sarah's parents, were also very gracious and accepting when Rory was over. Sarah couldn't help but feeling like she finally had the sister she always wanted.

Also, she got to catch up with Dustin again, something that she hadn't noticed missing until she had all day with him. His genuine sweetness was irresistable. He was a Hufflepuff through and through, as he always said. She was also surprised how much she had missed in his personal life. An essay he had written for History of Magic had been published in a small alternative history magazine, making him the second youngest person to have contributed to it.

Perhaps more excitingly, he had been on a date! Her name was Marissa, and she was a sixth-year Ravenclaw. He was not exactly furtive about the event, but he didn't go into details, even when asked specifically, so out of respect for him, Sarah decided that she would just go snooping. Now she had two things to investigate when she got back to school.

It seemed like Christmas Break had no sooner started than they were back at King's Cross, on their way to Hogwarts. The more severe Fiendfyres had been extinguished, so the train was ruled safe once more.

The three of them met up with their splinter groups of friends on the platform. Rose was leading around the Westfold twins and Carter. Cassandra was babbling about her holidays to Rose, who was taking it good-naturedly, though with minor signs of exasperation. Carter's attention seemed to be focused on a lamp hanging above the entrance to the platform, though he occasionally would insert a comment. It was hard to tell when he was listening. Marcus, on the other hand looked as if it was taking the last vestiges of his strength to not cover his ears and dive underneath the train, just to escape the babbling. He gave Sarah a pleading look as they boarded the train, but Sarah just laughed.

The compartments were best suited for four riders, and there were seven of them. Sarah silently hoped that she would be in the three person room with Albus and Rory, but didn't voice her opinion. Carter almost ruined her arrangement, voicing his desire to get to know Sarah and her friends more, until Marcus not-so-subtly implied that he would like another male in his car.

So the three of them were alone in their car. Sarah wondered a bit awkwardly if it would be innappropriate to start on the serious subjects immediately, or if she should make small talk first. She opened her mouth, but Albus cut her off.

"Sarah, you must have considered who it might be disguising themselves as Orianna, right?" Sarah thought about it for a moment. It was true, she had wondered who it could have been hiding underneath Orianna's skin. She had many theories, but all the evidence seemed to point back towards one person who Sarah didn't even remember, except in fragmented nightmares.

"I've thought about it," Sarah admitted. "I just don't think this is the perfect time to jump to conclusions."

Albus shook his head gravely. "This is the perfect time to jump to conclusions. We have no better theories, and at least it gives us a vein of evidence to investigate more fully."

"Wait, what are you guys talking about?" asked Rory. "Remember that I don't have the history you two have, you might have to spell things out."

Sarah and Albus glanced at each other. It was her story, she supposed, so she should be the one to explain it. "Well, you remember how when I was young, some rogue witches kidnapped my family to get at Al's dad?" Rory nodded. "And how they used Fiendfyre to burn down the house once they were done?" Rory nodded again, recognition on her face. "Well they both escaped, and..." she paused for a moment. "The person who pinned me against the wall, she had this weird way of moving, and this look in her eyes that...it seems to fit Brista's insanity. Brista was the one who fought the Aurors. We never even heard the other one's name."

"Wait!" exclaimed Rory. "That makes sense! Didn't you say that the person who threatened you, the one who looked like my sister, but may or may not have been..." Rory stopped, tangled in her own train of thought. "Anyway, didn't you say she wanted to kill you, but she wasn't allowed to? She doesn't seem to be the kind person who would be worried about obeying the law, she must have been taking orders! Was the other woman, the mystery woman, was she in charge of Brista?"

Sarah thought about it. She didn't even have fragments of memory about the blonde woman, she had only heard description from her parents, mostly her father. Her mother had been so traumatized by the magic used to control her that most of her memories of the event faded after a few weeks. But she did seem to remember Dudley being more concerned about the blonde witch than Brista, maybe she had been in charge.

"Maybe," replied Sarah, "But we don't know anything about her. We don't know anything about Brista for that matter. We're going in pretty blind here."

They all sat and thought grimly for a while. "I think we can all agree we need more information," suggested Sarah, hoping that someone else would volunteer a solution.

Albus hummed. "We know she, or rather, they, are using Fiendfyre, for some...purpose. And they're using Polyjuice Potion to get into the school. I can't figure out why they need to get into the school in the first place, but I guess that's just one more thing to work out..." He paused and kneaded his forehead.

"Oh, and Hogsmeade has something to do with it," added Rory. "Right?" she asked, pushing her hair back nervously.

Sarah nodded. "But still, we don't understand the purpose. What are they trying to gain? From what you've told me about your sister, she wouldn't get onboard unless there was something in it for her. So what is it?"

"Maybe they're teaching her how to control Fiendfyre," suggested Albus.

"No, she can already do that, remember how precisely she detonated Hogsmeade? Though, that might not have been her, with all the Polyjuice Potion going around," Sarah admitted.

"I think Sarah's right, Orianna wouldn't go through all of this just for a weapon. There are more effective tools than Fiendfyre, and if I know my sister, she's looking for some kind of power at the end."

Albus was following his own train of thought though. His head was cocked as he shuffled and reshuffled a deck of Muggle playing cards he had taken from his sack. "Where do you think they stay?" he asked suddenly. "The other witches I mean. Orianna can hardly have them hiding in her room all day, and there seems only to be one of her at any given time. The Hogsmeade incident is the only time I can definitely think of her being in two places at once."

Sarah frowned. "I think Head Boys and Girls get rooms to themselves, part of the privelige. But you're right, I doubt they're hiding in there. The house-elves, or someone would have found them."

"The blonde woman probably isn't there, just Brista," said Rory, who had withdrawn a newspaper. "These fires are all over the country. At least one of them has to be far enough away from the school to apparate."

"So Blondie is far away, Brista is nearby, maybe the village or the Forbidden Forest," Albus summarized.

"Probably the second, there is still technically a warrant out for her," said Sarah. They nodded for a moment. Albus dealt out some cards, though none of them had discussed playing a game. It was just something to do with his hands, she guessed.

"Well if that's the case, how is she communicating? Orianna hasn't been leaving the school," Albus pointed out.

Sarah shrugged. "Maybe they have a campfire out there hooked up to the Floo Network. Or maybe one of those magic mirrors." Rory frowned and discarded a two of clubs.

"Those things are actually a lot rarer than you think. Maybe the Floo Network though. They do seem to have an affinity for fire," Albus suggested as he picked up the two.

"Don't you have to keep the fire going the whole time?" asked Rory. "That seems like a hassle, especially since in the Forbidden Forest, where if you overfed it it might set the whole forest on fire."

"Yeah," agreed Albus, "Though normal fire must be a breeze to play with after Fiendfyre."

Sarah didn't really have a good hand, at least, assuming they were playing King's Corners. No, that didn't make sense. She decided to pick up a card from the top of the deck, hoping it got her closer towards her unknown goal.

"What we really need is someone watching her when she's alone, like in her room. But we can't even get into the Slytherin Common Room, let alone her private room. I'll bet anything that's where she communicates with Brista, or the blonde woman." Albus seemed convinced of his correctness.

"Maybe that's why she wanted to Head Girl in the first place. I overheard one of the seventh-years saying that she really was campaigning for it. Not officially of course, but lots of teacher flattery and everything," added Rory.

Sarah thought for a moment. "Do either of you know anyone in Slytherin?"

The other two paused. Albus accidently lowered his cards as he did. Sarah took a quick peek and decided she had nothing to fear from him. "Not really. Weasleys have mostly been headed to Gryffindor, and the ones who go elsewhere are always in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. I mean, if you guys have ever met Grandad Weasley, he has absolutely no ambition whatsoever. Sure, by the end of his career he was pretty high up, but that was mostly accidental. He'd rather study Muggle toilets and stuff."

Rory couldn't think of any either. "Really, my entire family is pretty secluded, both from each other and the wizarding world as a whole. I don't think I had met another witch my age until you, Sarah."

Sarah couldn't think of any either. "Well, do any of you have friends who have friends in Slytherin? Might be a long shot to ask them for a favor, especially a potentially dangerous one like spying on a crazy Head Girl but..." She stopped, an idea forming roughly in her head, but Rory and Albus just took it as an end to her thought.

"Maybe Marcus, he seems depressing enough," suggested Albus.

"That's just because he's solitary, maybe a little anti-social," replied Rory. "He's doesn't actually hate people, or life or whatever. He really is a nice guy." Albus shrugged.

"All I know is we've been spending time with him for half the year and I still don't think he'll willingly say a word to any of us."

"I guess that's true," laughed Rory, "but...  
>"Guys, I've got it!" interrupted Sarah. "We don't know anyone in Slytherin, or anyone who knows anyone in Slytherin, but we do know someone who knows someone who knows someone in Slytherin!"<p>

Albus and Rory's blank stare was quite justified. "We...do?" asked Rory.

"Well, I do. And you've met him. So I guess, for you guys, you know someone who knows someone who..."

"I think we've got it," interjected Sarah, holding his head, still lost in the layers of separation. He pulled back his focus to look at his cards. "Hey!" He layed them out. "Highs and lows, I win!"

Rory sighed. "Albus, we're playing Gin."

"Sorry...can you go over that one more time?" asked Dustin the next morning at breakfast. Dustin's fifth-year friends were looking on as if Sarah was a puppy. It was endearing, but a little frustrating considering she was attempting to have a slightly covert conversation.

"We want you...to ask Goyle...to ask Malfoy...to spy on Orianna," repeated Sarah, carefully emphasizing each step.

"Okay..." He paused a moment thinking. "And there is a good reason for this?"

Sarah gritted her teeth. "Well yes, but we can't tell you what it is." They had decided beforehand that the less people knew their suspicions the better. It was hard and unnatural not to confide in her brother; she knew that he would confide in her.

Dustin thought for another moment. His friends had returned to their previous conversation, which was a relief for Sarah. "What makes you think Garret will do that for me?"

"Garret?"

"Garret Goyle."

"Didn't you say he idolizes you, has you help him with all of his homework?"

"Yeah..." Dustin sighed. "He's a smart kid really, it just takes him a long time to learn anything. Once he has it down for the first time, he can remember it after that."

"But he'd definitely do it for you, right?" prompted Sarah.

"Yeah, I suppose," agreed Dustin. "But even if he agrees, what makes you think that..."

"...you'll agree?" completed Sarah, raising one eyebrow. "Because if you don't help me out, I'll show up on any future dates you have with Marissa, and generally embarrass you. Not to mention tell every detail about what she does to Mum and Dad, who you know will go crazy and bother you for the rest of the..."

"Oh, that's great!" exclaimed Dustin, but without a hint of sarcasm. "I've already told Marissa all about you, she was really excited to meet you. And Mum and Dad would love to hear about her, I'd tell them myself, but I always forget the details. Hold on..."

Dustin turned around, scanning the Ravenclaw table. "Hmm...There she is! Marissa!"

A calm, slightly dreamy girl turned around. Her hair was dark brown, nearly black, and she was very pretty. Sarah just wasn't sure she could see her ever getting excited about anything. She gave a serene wave to Dustin. Dustin pointed to Sarah, and mouthed, "This is my sister!"

Marissa nodded with a understanding smile and waved again to Sarah. Dustin gave her a thumbs-up, and turned back to Sarah. "There. I'm sure she'll want to talk to you at some point, but now you two recognize each other."

Sarah sighed. "Dustin, you're no good at being blackmailed."

Dustin frowned. "Oh. Sorry. I was going to ask him anyway, I was just wondering if you were sure Malfoy was going to do it for Goyle."

Sarah shrugged, attempting nonchalance, but she was truthfully worried about that step. "Hopefully he'll have some shred of loyalty left to his ex-friend, even though Goyle is a Hufflepuff now."

"I bet he will," said Dustin. "He seemed nicer than I've heard his father is."

"Of course, you always expect the best in everyone," Sarah reminded him. "I hope you never meet a nasty person who ruins your notions of humanity."

Dustin laughed. "Haven't yet, and I hope you're right."

"So, just recapping, tell Goyle to tell Malfoy to spy on Orianna, and report back. To him that is. And he'll report to you. And you'll report to us of course." Dustin nodded.

"Got it. Love ya, sis!" he said as she turned to head back to the Gryffindors.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I know, doesn't mean you have to say it all the time."

"Come on, no need to deny the truth," he jabbed playfully.

"Fine," sighed Sarah. "Love ya too, bro." She put special sarcasm onto the last note. But she did mean it. And this meant a lot to all of them.


	11. Chapter 11

Sarah didn't know why she had expected instantaneous results. This was a Malfoy she was dealing with. Even if he respected Goyle enough to do him a favor, there was no reason for him to hurry. Dustin had reported that Goyle had convinced Malfoy to spy, but after that Sarah tried to avoid her brother. She wasn't certain if Malfoy knew she was related to Dustin, or that Goyle was friends with him, but she didn't want him to figure out who he was actually doing this for.

She was beginning to realize that she had bigger problems. Vague connivings of someone at the opposite end of the school were much easier to forget about as soon as classes started back up. According to Professor Hornby, "The first term is nothing but teaching first-years how to navigate and survive the school. Now you start the real learning." Indeed, the pace did seem to increase. Sarah had always been an efficient worker though, so while other students excelled in class but struggled to finish their assignments, she reversed the pattern.

Albus seemed to be struggling the most. Rory worried more, but Albus seemed to be crashing. Every morning, his eyes were hidden more and more under a morass of bags and eye gunk. His movements were lethargic and his responses slow. He was clearly not getting nearly enough sleep. It was odd, because he certainly left the common room early enough. If he was staying up late to finish his homework, he must be doing it in his room. There wasn't really much else to do in the dormitories, except maybe read, but Albus didn't strike her as the kind of guy to lose sleep over a book.

About a month after break, on the day of the big match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, Sarah had the third worst surprise of her year, which was still impressive considering the kind of year she had been having. She entered Charms with Albus and Rory, perhaps a little late, but not inexcusably so.

"Well," sighed Professor Dorian. "I don't know what I expected from you three, I guess I just thought you would have the respect to show up early for our guest." Sarah frowned, but didn't respond. Dorian clearly wasn't disappointed, as good of an actress as she could be, she wasn't using her talents. She was gleeful that she could pick on them a bit more. Sarah was more curious about the guest.

Rory noticed her first, letting out a little shriek, and almost dropping her books. Orianna Zyther was sitting in a desk in the corner. It was comically small for her, designed for younger students, but she looked every bit as intimidating.

"Oh yes, you two are sisters. I always forget, there's just such a discrepancy between your..." she paused for effect, "...responsibility." Rory was shaking a little bit. Sarah felt like something inside her was quivering, but she wasn't showing it. She just bit her lip and led Rory to their seats.

"Now, we were working on the Lumos Charm, and the countercharm," began Professor Dorian, but Sarah couldn't take her eyes of Orianna. She did have her head cocked just the slightest bit, but there were no strange, involuntary movements, no glint of madness in her eyes. Perhaps a bit of malice, but this did seem to be the genuine girl, or at least not Brista using Polyjuice.

"Wands out. Lumos Charms everyone." Dorian's wand glowed gently. "There's light enough in here, no need to overdo it."

Sarah, of course, overdid it. She had managed to get this spell pretty quickly, but she was having difficulty controlling it. Her spell seemed to scorch her retinas until it stabilized at a lower level. Professor Dorian flashed her a nasty smile.

"In light of the most recent rash of Fiendfyres, the Ministry has instructed me to teach you its countercharm. Pointless, really, a first year couldn't do anything to combat a Fiendfyre, but since it is no more than a variation on the the end of a Lumos, I though I might as well obey. The incantation is _Nox Maxima_. Identical, but more powerful."

She held up her wand, straightening her back. "Hold up your wands, and I'll demonstrate." Everyone complied, even Orianna, sitting in the corner. She still hadn't taken her eyes off Sarah. Why was she looking at her? Why not Rory? What made Sarah so special?

"_Nox Maxima,_" intoned Professor Dorian perfectly. Sarah felt a wave of cold sweep through the classroom, quenching the light of every wandtip, even the sun streaming in from the windows. Every wandtip, except for her own. Professor Dorian looked as confused as Sarah felt. The other students were all looking at her in the suddenly dark room.

Dorian was scowling, but she quickly repeated, "_Nox Maxima!_" and Sarah's wand was extinguished. Professor Dorian didn't say anything, but she continued into the lesson with unnecessary haste.

But Sarah's hadn't been the only wand to stay lit, she realized, as she looked into the back corner. Orianna too, had a lit wand. Perhaps the spell had simply not reached, but the look in Orianna's eyes seemed to say otherwise. Once more, she locked her gaze with Sarah's, as if to say, "We have more in common than you might think," and whispered, "_Nox!_"

"I hate her!" exclaimed Rory after class. Professor Dorian had let them out late, so they had to rush. Most of the school was already down on the Quidditch Pitch. Sarah normally took a different, more leisurely route, so she had to concentrate on sympathizing and not getting lost. "She always shows up in the wrong places! It's as if she knows where I'm most..." She trailed off, but Sarah could tell what she was going to say. Insecure, maybe sensitive? Professor Dorian had always terrified Rory, and with the quiet, malicious eye of her sister, Sarah couldn't blame her for insecurity.

"Why do you think she's there?" asked Albus. "I mean, Professor Dorian talked to her as if she was some kind of student teacher, but that's not what she wants to be, is it Rory?"

"No," agreed Rory.

"She probably wanted to keep an eye on us," said Sarah. "Somehow I think that Brista...threatening me..." Sarah shivered. The memory still bothered her. "I don't think that was part of the plan. But Brista's not right in the head, she's unpredictable, and now Orianna has to clean up, make sure we don't try to tell anyone."

"Yeah, that makes sense!" Albus seemed excited about the idea of having the enemy watching them, it probably added to the ridiculous sense of adventure he felt about this whole affair.

"Why do you think she couldn't put out my wand, or Orianna's?" asked Sarah. That was what had been bothering her the most about this whole affair.

"Well Orianna has had loads of experience, and you're the best witch in the class, at least at practical magic," quipped Albus.

"Not as much experience as Professor Dorian," Sarah reminded him. "And there's no way I'm the best in the class, I can't even control a simple _Lumos_ spell."

"But you do it much more powerfully," said Rory. "Maybe Professor Dorian just didn't count on having to put in so much effort to douse your wand."

"Maybe..." said Sarah as remembered why she typically avoided this hallway. Peregrin the Paranoid was hanging on the wall, eying her as she passed, his huge gargoyles flexing their muscles. He looked worse off than when Sarah had seen him last. His face was paler, his eyes wide and frightened.

"St...stay away!" he stuttered as they passed. His face was thin and haggard. Sarah wondered if pictures could lose weight, or hair, because he certainly looked like he had been doing both. The few hoary hairs clinging to the top of his skull stuck up in a state of total disarray.

None of them addressed him, it was generally the best policy. He cowered at the bottom of the frame, his eyes fixed on them as they passed.

"That's something else we've forgotten!" said Rory excitedly after they were out of earshot. "Orianna had been bothering that portrait in earlier years, and did you see him now?"

Sarah was loath to agree, she still remembered the initial argument about the picture. It still stung, as the only squabble the two of them had had to date. "Yeah, he didn't look well," she was forced to admit.

"I remember, at the beginning of the year, he was eager to catch students spying on him and such, but now..."

"He seemed terrified at the idea," finished Sarah. Rory nodded.

"What do you think they want from him? Information? Maybe he's guarding something?"

"Not information," said Sarah, "James told me once that he was just painted a few decades ago, so I don't think he'd have any information that other portraits don't."

"Hmm...And it looked like there was just a blank slate of wall behind him," continued Rory.

"Though that doesn't mean much at Hogwarts, does it Albus?" Sarah turned. "Albus?" He didn't look too well. He looked pale, and a little guilty. "What's wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing, just...feeling a little nauseous, I don't think I've been sleeping enough." Sarah had to admit that he had all the symptoms, but she knew Albus well enough to see that sleep wasn't the real problem.

"Sigh," she said (the word sigh, not the action), "Albus, I thought you were a Potter boy. Aren't you supposed to be good at lying?"

Albus blanched a little, but kept a straight face. "Lying? What are you talking about?"

"You know, I've seen you pull it off before, lying to a teacher's face, what makes me and Rory so much harder?"

"I'm not lying!" replied Albus, suddenly defensive.

Sarah just shook her head a Rory in mock disgust. "Anything but the full truth is lying, Albus, and don't think you can fool your best friends. I've spent enough time with you and James to learn your quirks."

Albus scowled and looked to Rory for support, but she just stepped back, trying not to get involved. He bit his lip, but said, "Fine. I was going to tell you eventually; I was waiting for the right moment. But I guess you've cut out that option."

"Don't try to guilt me, it won't work," chided Sarah.

Albus shot her a dirty look, but continued "You're right, like always," he started sarcastically, but Sarah just motioned for him to continue. "I...well...I got something special for Christmas. Like really special. Unique. And it's why I've been up late, not getting sleep and everything."

He paused for dramatic effect. "What?" asked Rory, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"My Dad gave me his old invisibility cloak. I've been wandering around the school, getting to know the secret passages and trick stairs and everything."

"Wow," said Sarah, impressed. "That's a Deathly Hallow you know, one of the most powerful magical artifacts ever made."

"What, are you going to make me return it, lecture me on having it in the first place?" shot back Albus.

"I'm not Rose," replied Sarah coolly. "I was just saying."

"Anyway, I found a bunch of cool stuff while I was wandering around, that I wanted to tell you about, except it's kind of a secret that I even have this. James never gets jealous, but this would be the exception, so you two have to keep it secret, right?"

Rory and Sarah nodded, the first fervently, the second skeptically. "And why is this making you so nervous?" asked Sarah. "Doesn't seem like you need to be worried."

A dull roar was building from the outside of the school, flaring every time they passed a window. Albus, now that the initial confession had gone, was eager to tell the rest, but they were coming to the front doors.

"Listen, I'll tell you guys tonight, after the game. I can even show you! Or well, not show you, you wouldn't actually see it I guess,"

"We understand," assured Sarah. "Come on, I don't want to miss any of the game."

Albus nodded eagerly. "I can't wait to see how James does! He said he's been working on some new tricks," explained Albus.

"Yeah, and I can't wait to rub this in Dustin's face, when we crush them!" added Sarah. "He never gets competitive about anything, so at least this way the competition is forced. Not that he'll care, I guess. But it makes me feel better."

The two of them looked at Rory, mentally asking her why she was coming. "I...I guess I just don't have anything better to do."

Sarah laughed. "Sounds about right. Someday Albus and I will drive an appreciation for sports into your brain."

It was cold in the stands, even slight gusts felt like miniature blizzards. Visibility was low in the wind, but high otherwise. The biggest factor would be freezing hands for the Beaters and Chasers, it was almost guaranteed to be a sloppy game.

They barely found seats before the balls were in the air, and Albus was left with the task of explaining the importance of this particular game while trying to see every detail, which was difficult in a Quidditch game.

"So this game is the second-to-last game, Gryffindor had the bad luck of getting two out of three games right after each other. They did well in their first game, but it took that brute Richards, he's the captain by the way, the Seeker, way too long to get the Snitch. He just can't maneuver; up there on the broom he looks like...Oh come on!"

There had been a foul on James, he had knocked one of the Hufflepuff Beaters off-course, an impressive feat considering the size difference. The penalty shot was no good, so there was no harm done. James quickly earned revenge with an intercepted pass transitioning straight into a throw across the entire field to a fellow Chaser who put it through the goal with no effort whatsoever.

"Thatta boy James!" screamed Albus, making himself heard over the torrential noise of the Gryffindor stands. "Hey! Richards! Get your head in the game! We cheer, you find the Snitch!" Indeed, Richards was yelling support to his players instead of searching for the game-winning ball.

The ball had barely started towards the Gryffindor goalposts before James executed a brilliant dive straight at the Hufflepuff Beaters, scattering them and pushing the ball-carrier into his fellow Chasers, who quickly deprived him of it and tossed it to James, who would have shot if not for the Bludger that sailed within an arm's length of his head.

"See, Ravenclaw is awful this year, and they were missing their only decent player during their game versus Hufflepuff." Albus resumed his explanation as if he had simply stopped for a breath. "They got creamed, by a margin of almost 250 points. That put Hufflepuff in the lead for the cup, and while Gryffindor obviously beat Ravenclaw, we need to win this game by a pretty wide margin, because I don't know if we'll be able to get that big of a lead on Slytherin. I'm pretty confident we can beat them, but not by enough points, especially with their Seeker. He's the fastest since...well my dad probably. To be honest, I'm glad he's a seventh-year, I wouldn't fancy going up against him next year."

Sarah tried to suppress a laugh at the assumption that Albus would definitely be Seeker next year. He was exceptional, but he was competing with much older students. But she had to have faith in her friends, she reminded herself, if she wanted them to do the same.

Ten minutes into the game, technique was going down the tubes. The frigid cold was making even sitting in the stands, in warm coats, surrounded by warm people, almost unbearable. Sarah couldn't even imagine what it was like on the speeding brooms. James had secured them a huge lead, with his fellow Chasers, around ninety points. If the Snitch was caught now, any victory over Slytherin next game would mean the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor.

But Richards was struggling. The Hufflepuff Seeker had spotted the Snitch three times, it was only with careful positioning that James was able to cut him off the chase, and James was wearing out too. He was only a third-year, his athletic potential had not been met.

As if to complicate the situation further, the largest Hufflepuff Chaser, a brick wall of a boy and the only Hufflepuff Dustin had said he tried to avoid, had decided that James wasn't even worthy of his attention. Monroe, was his name, Dustin had said. Any attempts James made to steer him off to one side simply met with him nudging James out of the way. There had been quite a few close saves by the Keeper, but even from the stands, Sarah could see the tips of her fingers turning bluer and bluer with each save.

It was a relief when Richards finally got his head together and called time. The teams grouped up, fans and supporters storming onto the field with hot compresses. Richards said one short thing when they hit the ground, but James took control after that. He was a different person on the field. No more suave joking, he took command like a battlefield sergeant.

And suddenly, he strutted away from his team, straight towards the other huddle, a grim look on his face. The stands took notice, and the respectful quiet they had given the time out disappeared, replaced by murmuring. James tapped Monroe on the shoulder, causing the huge boy to turn and give him a dumb, slightly malicious grin. Sarah couldn't hear what they were saying, but for some reason, she got the distinct impression that James was apologizing to the boy.

"Don't fraternize with the enemy!" yelled Marcus Westfold from a few benches down.

"What is he doing?" she asked Albus.

A grin spread across Albus's face. "He's got something planned. I don't know what it is, but he's pulling out something new, I can tell."

"I just hope that dope Richards can catch the Snitch so his work doesn't go to waste," said Rory.

Albus and Sarah turned to her in surprise. She blushed and pushed her hair back. "What? I don't personally understand why you all get so worked up about this game, but at least the work James put in should matter a little, right?"

But suddenly the teams were in the air again, the stands were on their feet, the cheering deafening. It was true that the game might go on for hours more, but the air had calmed, visibility was improving, and there was just a distinct feeling that this would be the play that would make the game. Gryffindor was up 190 -100, but they needed a wide margin of victory if they wanted a shot at the Quidditch Cup.

But right away, things started going south. James seemed distracted, he was spending more times hassling the Beaters than playing with the Quaffle, and without him, the Gryffindor Chasers were hard pressed to keep Hufflepuff away from the goalposts. Hufflepuff scored, once, twice, barely missed a third opportunity.

"What is he doing?" asked Sarah, a bit peeved.

"He's got this in the bag, don't worry," assured Albus, his faith never slipping.

The other Gryffindor Seekers managed to break free, and with an excellent pass all the way across the field, they scored, but their own goal was left unguarded. Before Sarah could even see what was happening, Monroe was streaking down the field, his sheer momentum preventing anyone from getting close. The field was empty in front of him.

No, it wasn't Sarah realized, James was alone on his broom, headed straight for Monroe, an expression grim determination literally frozen on his face. They were on a crash course, a game of chicken suspended high above the frozen ground. He was a maybe a third of the size of Monroe, he had no chance of winning in a collision, but he didn't swerve. Monroe just grinned and clutched the Quaffle tighter underneath his arm.

"Don't!" cried Rory from the stands. There were screams of terror as they hurtled towards each other, the teachers on the sidelines pulling out their wands for the inevitable first aid that was soon to be needed.

And then Sarah saw it. Hidden directly behind James was a Bludger, hurtling at full speed, shielded from Monroe's view, but clear to everyone in the stands. Monroe closed his eyes and braced for impact, but the second before James was sandwiched between the twin forces of Monroe and the Bludger, he slackened his knees, loosened his grip, and flipped completely upside-down on his broom. The Bludger slammed into Monroe with a focused, heavy force he hadn't been expecting. It knocked the Quaffle loose, spinning towards the Hufflepuff goalposts.

Still upside-down, James caught the ball and dunked it through the shortest hoop. The Gryffindor crowd went wild, an ecstasy that became unmanageable when someone noticed, "Look, Richards got the Snitch!"

Indeed, the burly captain had indeed finally tracked down the Snitch. In terms of total points, James had still facilitated more that match than his captain's final 150. Albus was on his feet, standing on the bench in the stands. Marcus Westfold, a few benches down was jumping up and down, roaring in excitement. Cassandra hadn't been lying about his Quidditch obsession.

The delirium transferred straight from the pitch to the Common Room, where there was a swinging party. Muggle audio equipment didn't work in Hogwarts, but Fred Weasley had mastered a little charm to make various household objects sing, and with a little bit of teaching, he managed to get a ten-piece band out of pots and cauldrons swiped from the kitchen.

James didn't seem to touch the floor that entire night. Either he was jumping between pieces of furniture, shouting out toasts and reenacting plays, or he was being carried on the shoulders of his team and house.

Richards was getting some attention too, though mostly from the seventh-years. He had flown well, but not with same spectacular style James had, and besides, he was old news. James was ten assists away from the school record, and, sitting on the shoulders of Pierce the Prefect, he vowed to smash that record by the next game.

Rory and Rose were in one corner, commenting on the celebration with amusement. Neither of them were really the kind of people to get carried away by sports riots. Carter was in a chair near them, reading a book instead of participating in the party, probably by his own decision, but Sarah felt like everyone should celebrate.

She pulled up a chair next to him. "You've been pretty quiet tonight," she commented.

He shrugged. "I guess that should tell you about how comfortable I am with all of you."

Sarah was confused. She thought he had generally been social and friendly with them. "I thought I did," she admitted. "What do you mean?"

"Oh right," said Carter blandly. "I forgot I haven't explained my view on talking. It's obligatory when you meet someone new, right? Meaningless introductions, for nothing but shallow surface insights. When I'm friends with something, I pick my words more carefully, imbue them with a little more meaning."

Sarah laughed, giving him a strange look. "You're a funny kid," she said. "And you read too much. But I think I understand what you're saying."

Carter nodded. "Thank you, sincerely. Most people think I'm just crazy."

"Doesn't mean I agree, mind you," she added. "Talk is cheap, in my opinion."

Carter thought a while, selecting his words carefully. "Talk has whatever value you appraise to it."

"That's why you like books, isn't it?" inferred Sarah. "Every word is deliberate."

"In a good book, yes," confirmed Carter. They paused for a moment in silence. "If you're concerned about people not enjoying the party, I'd look closer in your group of friends."

Sarah looked over. Rory seemed to be having a good time. But that wasn't where his gaze was directed. To her great surprise, Albus was sitting on the hearth in front of the fire, a sour expression on his face.

Sarah sighed. "Why do I always have to solve everyone else's problems?"

Carter laughed, but then, with a straight face, replied. "Because you're good at it."

Taken a bit a back at his sincerity, she thanked him a little uncertainly, and continued on to talk to Albus. He couldn't look more different than at the end of the game.

"What's wrong?" she asked, plopping down beside him before he had time to put on a false expression of enjoyment. Albus tried to smile, but he knew that she had already seen him pouting.

"I could have done that, you know," he said. "What James was doing. And I could have caught the Snitch a dozen times before Richards. I saw it all the way from the stands once or twice, but Richards was too busy paying attention to his team."

"Yeah, you did look frustrated whenever he was talking to the team."

"And so now James gets all the attention, and Richards is useless, hanging out with his seventh-year friends in the corner," Albus continued as if Sarah had never spoken. "I'm good enough to share that praise. Not that I need the attention or anything," he clarified. "I'm not needy, just, when I see my brother getting all of it, and everyone thinks I'm famous just because of my Dad, and that I haven't done anything by myself..." he trailed off.

Sarah nodded sympathetically. She had heard this before. Last time she had just counseled him to wait, and he hadn't taken it well. This time she was going to be nothing but a listening ear. "I guess I'm not really living up to the family legacy or whatever. My dad was always trying to escape his fame, wasn't he? And here I am jealous because my brother gets a little recognition."

Sarah waited for an appropriate amount of time, but disagreed. "I don't think so. Your father was only trying to get away from fame he didn't feel he deserved. Like for things his mother had done, your grandmother. He was okay with everyone celebrating when he won at Quidditch, because those times it was his work that had payed off, not luck or other people's sacrifice, like whenever he came face-to-face with Voldemort."

Albus looked confused. He looked at Sarah, then back to the party, then back to Sarah. "Thanks. That was actually pretty meaningful. Who are you, Carter?" he laughed.

"So did you know about his whole putting value in words thing?" she asked.

"Yeah, I thought that was common knowledge."

"Not for me," replied Sarah, a bit defensively.

"Huh. And normally you're so good at reading people."

"Hey!" replied Sarah, smacking him on the arm.

"What? That wasn't an insult."

"Well it sure felt like one," she replied jokingly.

"Oh, so now you're arbitrary in addition to being bad at reading people."

"You tell her, Al!" inserted James, who had withdrawn from his crowd of admirers. This time Sarah smacked him on the cheek, softly obviously, without any actual anger, but enough to show that she was dangerous.

"Violence!" sighed James, "The tool of the lazy, the desperate and the..." Sarah raised her hand again, daring him to continue with the grin on her face, "...the divine, amazing people like Sarah!" He backed into the crowd, bowing conciliatory. Sarah shook her head in mock anger.

Albus sighed. "I just can't be peeved at him when he's right there in front of me, you know?"

"I can only feel peeved when he's right there in front of me, so no, I don't," replied Sarah jocularly. "And hey, if you want something to cheer you up, weren't you going to show us your Invisibility Cloak tonight?"

"Oh yeah! I forgot with all the excitement of the game." He paused in thought. "Meet me here at...let's see... the party is going to be going on for a while so lets say... two in the morning?"

"Two in the morning? Are you crazy?"

"Sarah, there are higher goods than sleep," Albus reminded her.

"Not to me," she grumbled.

Albus paused, giving her time to ruminate. But even Sarah was an eleven-year-old at heart, and no amount of sleep was cooler than an Invisibility Cloak.

"So you'll do it?"

Sarah nodded, but rebelliously.

"Great, meet you here." Sarah sighed as he turned and ran back up to his dormitory. It was going to be a long night, but the sleepless morning would come all too soon.

**So what do you all think? Leave me a review, and don't spare me your thoughts. I'm studying English at college, so I actually need the criticism. What do you think of my diction? Sentence length? Paragraph length? Dialogue? Chapter length? Would you prefer chapters half the length, but with double the frequency of updates? What about my characters? I'm open to criticism!**


	12. Chapter 12

Sarah liked her sleep. By extension, she disliked being deprived of her sleep. So even with the prospect of a dangerous, forbidden trip via Invisibility Cloak, she was not eager to stay awake all the way to two in the morning. She tried at first to figure out if there was a way to sleep for a few hours beforehand, but she knew that she was a sound sleeper, and any kind of alarm she set would wake more than just her. So finally she settled down with Rory, sitting between their beds and talking quietly. Most of the girls had nights like this every once in a while, and with all the excitement of the Quidditch match, no one thought twice of it.

When the time came for them to head downstairs, all the other girls were asleep. At the bottom, the two girls peeped around the corner. There were still a few people still in the Common Room. Fred was up, and there was a couple cuddling in a dark corner, whispering things to each other and giggling. Sarah frowned. Albus may have been able to become invisible, but they couldn't until they met him. The problem intensified when Victoire emerged from the portrait hole to usher the remaining teenagers back off to bed. She clucked disapprovingly at Fred's custom made Invisible Pepper, which he had been using to drive Richards and his friends up to their dorms amid fits of sneezing. She clucked even more angrily at the couple alternating between giggling and snogging in the corner.

With a firm hand, she grasped the girl by the arm and marched her up toward the stair. Sarah and Rory glanced up, but they wouldn't be able to make it all the way back to their dorms before she noticed them, and there was no where to hide on the staircase. For a moment of terrible indecision, it seemed like their night was over before it had begun.

"I'm right here," a voice whispered from right behind Sarah's ear. She almost yelped, and had to clamp a hand to Rory's mouth to keep her from doing what she had suppressed. Albus lifted the front part of the cloak, revealing himself to them, but keeping his back hidden to the inhabitants of the Common Room. Victoire was almost at the stairs, so Rory and Sarah just dove into the cloak with Albus. He dropped it over them just as she passed. She didn't even give them a glance.

The three of them edged their way out of the portrait hole without any trouble, the Fat Lady was so drunk from the festivities she thought she had simply fallen open. The second they were out of sight of the portrait, Rory burst out laughing.

"Rory!" hissed Albus. "What's so funny?" Her laugh was desperate, high pitched, and it sounded like she was beginning to hyperventilate.

"I'm...sorry," she gasped, "That was fun, I've never done anything like that!"

A grin of understanding spread across Albus's face, and he cocked his head, as if looking at Rory in a whole new way. "Yeah, it's a nice thrill, isn't it?"

Sarah had to allow a rueful smile too, but this was cutting into her sleeping time. "Alright, alright, when you've calmed down a bit, can we get to where ever you want to show us?"

Albus nodded. "Right, there's something I want you to see, down at the Peregrin the Paranoid."

Rory's giggles were subsiding. "D...Do we have to? I'm a little afraid of him." Albus shrugged.

"He's just a portrait, and besides, we're completely hidden under this. There's nothing in the world that could see us."

They descended without incident, though Rory couldn't keep away fits of nervous giggles. At first Sarah tried to shush her, but as Albus explained: "I'm pretty sure that if you don't want to be heard, you won't be as long as you're under this cloak. My dad didn't know that, but he figured it out when he was playing with it later in life." He said all of this rather loudly, just to illustrate his point, despite the fact that Sarah was a few inches away from his ear, by necessity of them all being able to fit.

"Okay, okay, I got you," she said, rubbing her ear grumpily. Lack of sleep was not good for her.

Albus had ignored her. "Hmm...I'm still not used to getting around in the dark. It's this way, I think. As far as I can figure, we're on the ninth floor now, and we need to get down to the seventh, and to about the opposite corner of the school. This way."

He pointed awkwardly over his shoulder, and the trio turned around and set out. It was a good thing that they were invisible, and smashed closely together, because the school was downright scary at night time. She didn't know how Albus had been staying out all night. The suits of armor would subtly stretch out, flexing their armored fingers, causing Sarah to jump every time she noticed them. Doors would open and shut spontaneously, and unsteady candles would glide up and down the hall. The ghosts themselves were no better, for their silvery glow in the absence of other light caused Sarah's eyes to unfocus and tear up as they floated past. Sometimes the worst was when there wasn't movement, because it gave Sarah's imagination a head start for the next surprise. Every corner was a new trauma.

They passed the closet where Brista had attacked Sarah. She was breathing hard, and hoping it wasn't obvious. A ball of fear and guilt was bundled up, smashed into the her sternum. She pressed closer to Albus, just to know she wasn't alone.

"Geez, can you girls give me a little room? There's space for the three of us under here." Sarah looked across at surprise, to find that Rory was doing the same thing. They met eyes guiltily, and smiled in rueful nervousness. "Thanks," said Albus, rubbing his sides. Sarah almost sighed. What boy would protest being sandwiched by two frightened girls, but an eleven-year-old?

Distracted by her own thoughts, Sarah turned another corner, and when she saw the huge man standing just past it, her muscles seized up so suddenly that it almost felt like she had been slammed by a trolley. There was suddenly no air in her lungs, and they didn't seem to be working, but her instincts kicked in, and she pressed Albus and Rory to the wall. Rory let out a little shriek, but Albus clapped his hand over her mouth.

The man stopped. He must have been at least seven feet tall, Hagrid was the only person Sarah had ever seen more masssive. His hair was gray and wild, cascading in thick rivulets around his face and neck. He stopped at the corner, and Sarah noticed his large eyes. They were yellow. Pulling a wand from his ratty brown coat, he swished it in the air, and with a gust of wind that ruffled the cloak, almost revealing Sarah's ankles, the dust in the corridor was swept up into one small, slowly revolving ball. With a tap, the ball began to shrink, and vanish. The man continued in the direction the three of them had come from.

Finally, Sarah's lungs seemed to kick in, and she took gasps of the stagnant air that had built up under the cloak. That wasn't enough though, so with a quick glance in either direction, she threw it over her head and sucked in the cooler, wintery air coming in from the nearest window. No one protested, they looked just as frightened and nauseous as Sarah. "Who was that?" she managed to ask finally.

Albus ran a hand through his hair, making the chronically messy hair even more disorderly. "That's the caretaker. James said his name is Antiok. I saw him once before in my wandering, but..." he trailed off. "James said that he killed an Auror, one of the good ones, during the Second War. He said he thought he was a Death Eater, and that got him off the hook, but most parents don't want their kids around him. That's why he only comes out at night."

Normally, Sarah would have taken anything James said with a grain of salt, if not a pinch, but tonight, she couldn't help but suspect he was right. She checked her watch. They had been out almost half an hour already.

"Can we keep moving?" asked Rory, a note of panic hidden in her voice. "I just want to get this over with." Albus just nodded darkly. He looked like he too was beginning to doubt the wisdom of this idea.

But the night was still not done. The school was busier than they had thought. On eighth floor, just around the corner from the staircase that would take them down to the portrait of Peregrin the Paranoid, they heard the echoes of voices from around the corner. At least they had warning enough to press into an alcove where a statue normally stood. It had gone visiting though, so they were safe, probably even without the Invisibility Cloak.

"What on earth is going on tonight?" demanded Sarah under her breath. Albus opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly blanched, going as white as Nearly Headless Nick, who had just drifted by the other end of the corridor.

"Albus? What's wro..."

"Shush!" hissed Rory, pulling them further into the alcove.

The first voice, the lower one, spoke again, and in a burst of familiarity, Sarah realized why Albus was so pale.

"We're close to getting her," said Harry Potter as he turned the corner. "A few more powerful spells and we might be able to start working on the remote wand tracking method. Fiendfyre is powerful, but it's revealing too. We know the length, core, springiness of her wand already, just a few more..."

"Her?" asked another voice, that after a moment's searching, Sarah recognized as Teddy Lupin's. She hadn't seen him for a while; he had graduated some time ago. She had remembered Albus mentioning that he had been training as an Auror, and this conversation sounded more professional than personal.

"Her." confirmed Harry. "We also know a little about the caster, at least the main one. Most of them are cast by a witch, probably around thirty. Good dental hygiene. It's funny what you can find out through a couple spell traces."

"Sorry, I'm new on this case, you'll have to explain. Main one?" Harry passed in front of them, nodding. He was walking so slowly it seemed more like the two of them were on patrol, or taking a stroll, rather than trying to get anywhere.

Albus pulled the two girls in front of him. "Hide me!" he whispered.

"Albus, we're invisible!" Sarah reminded him.

"Right, right," he whispered, trying to sound calm.

"Apparently," continued Harry. "There have been a couple different wand signatures. It could be the same person with multiple wands, but the ages don't quite line up. At first we thought we were just inaccurate in our ratings, but there's been enough evidence now to suspect multiple perpetrators."

"Hmm," said Teddy.

"The Hogsmeade incident, for example. Officially, it was an accident, but at the epicenter of the blast, we found a unicorn hair that matches the wand used to start some of the Fiendfyres."

"So that's part of this case too, then."

"Not officially. One of the hard parts about being an Auror is learning where to separate the official events from what actually happened."

Teddy did not look happy about that. His hair, which had been white, shifted to raven black, like Harry's. They stopped at the next corner, which was lucky, because Sarah and Rory were straining to catch every word, while Albus had shrunk back into the corner in mortal fear.

"Teddy, I say we're close to catching this woman, but I can't help but fear she'll act before we do. And I mean a big act. These aren't random terrorist strikes. These fires, they have a purpose, and these witches are reaching it. With each new one we have to combat, it's more controlled, more concentrated. It's good for our firefighting squads, controlled and easy to combat, but bad for us Aurors. She's learning to master it. All of this has just been practice, and in my opinion...she seems ready, for whatever it is. I've never seen such elegant manipulation of unstable magic."

Teddy thought for a minute. Sarah couldn't quite see around the corner in the dark, so she wondered if they had turned the corner and walked out of earshot, until he spoke. "So what do you think they're going to do?"

For the first time, Harry seemed to know as little as the rest of them. "This is what I was talking about earlier," he said finally. "About your stationing at Hogwarts not just being typical grunt work they give the Aurors-in-training. The pattern of fires seems to have a locus here, and they're moving closer. The ministry doesn't want to reveal it to the parents, but this school is in more danger than it has ever been before. The Hogsmeade incident was probably the school has ever come to destruction."

"Why?" asked Teddy with some consternation.

"If one spark of active Fiendfyre catches onto the magical infrastructure of the school, ignites all the residual charms, the defenses, the high ma..." He stopped. "There's a weapon that the Muggles have, called a nuclear bomb, and that's about the only thing I can liken it too. And even they're smart enough not to use it."

"Hasn't there been Fiendfyre in the school before? Isn't that how you managed to destroy the diadem?" Harry must have nodded, though they didn't see it.

"That was different," he clarified. "That was contained in the Room of Requirement, which has its own kind of unalterable magic. Ron told me, the second we got out of there...he just thought to himself, 'I need the fire to stay trapped, I need the fire to stay trapped,' and it did. It was quick thinking on his part, it may have saved us all."

"So...what if it's still there?" asked Teddy.

"It very well may be. But no one has been in the Room of Requirement since, and the location has been forgotten. Professor Elihphile, and maybe Hagrid are the only ones currently in the school who remember where it is, and they've set up someone to keep students away."

Dimly, something in the back of Sarah's mind clicked into place, and a new organization of the evidence began to form. "That's why I really need you to be careful here. I know you're excited to...well...to see Victoire and all," Sarah chanced a peek around the corner. Teddy was blushing from his toes to his hair itself, which was now pink. "But I need you to pay attention. Anything suspicious comes straight to me. Okay?"

"I won't let you down Da...Harry. You can count on me."

Harry clasped his hand on Teddy's shoulder. "I need to get back home, I haven't been seeing nearly enough of Ginny and Lily lately. This is my last year with kids in the house, and then they're all here. I'd like this place to be standing next year." Teddy nodded calmly, but resolutely. The two of them parted ways, Harry towards the Entrance Hall, Teddy to the rest of the school.

Albus checked his watch. "Wow! Three in the morning already! We should head back to bed!" he hissed, still rattled by being out of bed after hours and less than an arm's length from his father.

Sarah was really beginning to feel the tired delirium beginning to set in. There was something she was missing in this mystery, she knew she could figure out what was going on, she just needed a little more sleep. Maybe in the morning. "Yeah," she yawned. "We can always see Peregrin another time, right?"

"Wrong." Rory had slipped in front of the two of them, blocking their exit.

"Rory, we can always come back another time," yawned Albus

"No."

"Rory..."

"No. We're going tonight."

A ghost drifted by, a member of the Headless Hunt, as he bowled his head down the hall before staggering after it. In his silvery light, Rory's face was illuminated, and Sarah shrunk back. There was the same mad glint in her eye, the one Sarah had only seen in Orianna.

"She's my sister," explained Rory through gritted teeth. "And you heard what your dad said Albus. She could destroy the school. This is my home, it's the only place that ever has been. I'm going to protect him, and I won't delay a single second." Her voice was measured, but Sarah could hear the emotion bubbling under the surface. "I'm not just doing this for...for curiosity, or to solve the mystery. This is an obligation. I have to stop her, and if Peregrin has anything to do with this, I'm going to find out how he fits in, and I'm doing it now. I'm going, with or without you two, with or without the cloak." With that, she turned on her heel, slipped out of the cloak and strode down the hall, fully visible.

"Rory!" hissed Sarah. Since when had she been this reckless? True, she had yelled at her sister at the Sorting, and Professor Dorian, but that was different. There the danger, the embarrassment were present and threatening. Here...here it was more abstract. Sarah could understand why the Sorting Hat had such difficulty. This single-minded obsession with stopping her sister was certainly characteristic of Slytherin, though she couldn't say it wasn't brave. "Come on Albus!" she said, jerking the cloak to move him. He stumbled with her in a stupor. They threw the cloak back over Rory as they reached her. She gave Sarah a brief grateful look, but then continued her march to Peregrin.

When they reached Peregrin's corridor, Sarah could already tell something was different. Both of the gargoyles were alive and moving, like they had been when Peregrin ordered them to attack her and Rory. Sarah noted once more just how intimidating they were. They stood at least twice her height, with stone biceps as large around as a man's waist. Their stone was coarse and brown, and their leonine heads seemed to be carved by someone who had only heard rough descriptions of lions.

Peregrin himself was sleeping. This was the first time Sarah had seen him do so, though most portraits slept as much as any living human. "He only sleeps two hours a night," explained Albus. "And he sets his statues on alert when he does it. He tells them they should kill anything they see moving."

"Professor Elihphile lets him get away with that?" asked Sarah.

Albus shrugged. "Not many people are wandering around at this time of night. Chances are he doesn't know how dangerous Peregrin's paranoia can be."

Rory was still staring at the wall with an alien intensity. "Is this what you wanted to show us? It seems he's probably even more secure when he sleeps than when he's awake, so this doesn't help."

"No," whispered Albus. No one could hear them from under the cloak, but after so many close encounters, it was hard not to be quiet. He checked his watch. "If it keeps to its schedule, it should be here in a minute or two."

"What?" asked Sarah. But Albus kept his lips shut, and just pointed at the staircase descending ahead of them. He stared at it fixedly, as did Rory. Sarah could only stand so much time looking for unknown phenomena in the dark, so her eyes and mind began to wander.

She had been on the verge of epiphany just a few moments ago, when Harry was talking about his time at school. Why had she now forgotten so suddenly? She was tired, but her brain had roused itself a little before, why couldn't it now? Peregrin looked just as worried asleep as he did awake, Sarah noticed with some amusement. He was slumbering in a chair near the back of his concrete cell, a concerned look on his face as his low snores rumbled through folds underneath his chin. That seemed to be the only place there was fat left on his body. It gave his head an inflated look.

What could he possibly have that Orianna would want? He did not look like an ideal guard for anything valuable. The only discouragement he would offer thieves would be that they would have to deal with him for a moment. Though, she speculated, that might be the point, and with those gargoyles acting to back him up, maybe he was guarding something important...or...somewhere...

And suddenly in an ebullition of thought, the idea that had been lurking underneath the surface of her conscious burst to the surface. "Guys!" she hissed. "What if what Peregrin is guarding...is the Room of Requirement? The portrait is covering the wall where the entrance appears, and Professor Elihphile doesn't want anyone going in because they don't know if it is still on fire or not."

"Yes!" exclaimed Albus. "It's full of Fiendfyre too, that has to be part of it!" Even at the suggestion of the idea, he already seemed convinced.

"It's been lost since your dad last opened it, so no one can remember where it is, but I bet Orianna figured it out!"

Rory did not seem quite so enthusiastic. "Except..." she didn't complete her thought.

"Except what?"

"...why would they want to get in there? There's nothing but Fiendfyre, and they can already make that."

Sarah opened her mouth for a comeback, she was sure there was one, but it wasn't coming to her. "Well...maybe they don't want to have to start a Fiendfyre near the school because of all the increased security, so they're going to use what's already there."

Albus nodded. "Right."

"But they've already shown they're comfortable using Fiendfyre near the school, the Hogsmeade incident proved that. And besides, they said that if even a spark of Fiendfyre gets into the rest of the school, it'd all be blown to bits, including the people who started it. I know my sister too well to think that she'd become a suicide bomber. If she's going to blow up the school, it's going to be from a distance."

Albus frowned, and admitted, "Right..."

Sarah had to admit, there wasn't much evidence to support it, but she was unwilling to relinquish the idea. "Well...maybe there's something still in there that survived all the fire, and they want to go get it. They've only been starting all these other Fiendfyres to practice controlling them, so they can go in there and get it." She was improvising wildly, and hoped it didn't show.

"Right!" Albus exclaimed.

"Sarah, this is Fiendfyre we're talking about. Nothing can survive it, not even a Horcrux."

"Yeah, right..." agreed Albus.

"I did," said Sarah proudly.

"A few seconds not the same as nineteen years, Sarah."

"But it proves the theory is sound," she replied suavely.

Rory frowned. "Fine. There's an easy way to figure out if it's the Room of Requirement or not. Let's open it up."

"Yeah!"

"No!" exclaimed Sarah, loudly enough for a bit of the sound to escape the cloak and bounce around the hall.

"Why not?" asked Albus.

"What if...what if I'm right?" asked Sarah. "And by opening the door, we override the previous setting...and let the Fiendfyre out? I'm curious, but I'm not going to risk the school's destruction."

"Well if you can't prove it and you won't let us test it..." began Rory in exasperation, but she was interrupted.

"Right there!" hissed Albus suddenly, swinging his finger up to point at the opposite staircase. Rory and Sarah forgot their debate, and wrenched their necks trying to see where he was pointing.

"Where?"

"Right there! Right at the top of the stairs!"

Sarah's eyes ached from weariness, and there was definitely nothing there. "What am I supposed to be looking for?" she asked finally.

"It's like...a little ripple of air, and it's gone now, you can only see it when it...there!" This time Sarah saw it. Like a heat mirage on a desert road, there seemed to be a wavy patch of air moving across the hall. The gargoyles didn't notice it, and when the movement stopped, Sarah wasn't sure she did either.

"It comes every night, around this time," Albus explained in a ghost-story whisper. "Or at least, it has the last few nights I've come. I've seen it materialize almost completely, and I think it's a human. Probably a woman."

All three of them looked around. They had come to the same conclusion. "So, Disillusionment as well as Polyjuice? Orianna has been learning. Or Brista, I suppose," she clarified, but somehow Brista didn't seem the one to get involved in stealth.

"I can't figure out what she's doing, she just wanders around for a little while, then leaves. She goes up close, like she's looking for something in the portraits."

To Sarah's dismay, she realized that Rory was holding her wand, flexing her fingers threateningly. "Can't we just hex her now?" she asked through gritted teeth. Orianna did not bring out the best in Rory, Sarah concluded.

"Do you know anything that would incapacitate her?" asked Sarah.

"Maybe not, but I could hurt her quite a bit, and we have the advantage of being completely invisible, while we can see her outline." She raised her wand. Sarah was beginning to realize just how serious she was. It was time for some major dissuading.

"Rory, the gargoyles would definitely notice a fight, and if they start swinging around, it doesn't matter that we're invisible, they'd hit us eventually."

Rory didn't respond, but she didn't hex Orianna either. "What would it accomplish?" asked Sarah.

"I'd feel a hell of a lot better," she spat, using the most profanity Sarah had ever heard her use.

"Control yourself Rory," cautioned Sarah. "Isn't lashing out in anger what Orianna, or Brista would do?"

"Oh my sister knows plenty about controlling herself, getting in the right position for her final move. She knows all about control, and I wouldn't mind showing her a little bit about spontaneity." But even as she said this, the shiver of air backed away from the wall and retreated down the stairs. Rory let her go, but her wand was shaking.

"Come on, let's go see what she was looking at," suggested Albus, as if there had been no reference to hexing anyone. The three of them slunk towards the wall, careful to avoid the massive gargoyle, Cadmus. Sarah's head was beginning to pound, probably from weariness. They reached the portrait of Peregrin the Paranoid, which Albus and Sarah looked at in mild disgust.

"He's an ugly little man," commented Albus.

But Sarah ignored him. The pounding in her head was getting stronger, and she was getting hot underneath the cloak. In moments, the sweat was beading on her forehead, but she didn't mind it, it had been winter for too long. She was thinking in a feverish lucidity, aware of the blood pumping through her veins in a boiling frenzy. Flames of passionate...something...licked around all sides of her brain, she felt a sudden desire to push Albus and Rory away, thrust them out of the cloak to the gargoyles. They were different from her, they hadn't been touched by this magic like they had. She resisted though, for a much stronger impulse was beginning to take command of her body.

Her fingers tingling with repressed, unimaginable magic, as she lifted her hand slowly to reach out and touch the bare wall. The pounding in her head and veins resolved into a frantic drumbeat, half coming from her heart, the other half drawing her in from beyond the wall. There was something back there, she knew it, it was calling to her, screaming in voices of passion and madness, and she had to feel it. Her hand stretched closer and closer to the wall...

...she touched it. The drums vanished, the voices silence. There was nothing but the cool fabric of the cloak masking the rough stone. It was like any other wall in Hogwarts. The heat dissipated instantly, and she felt impossibly drained. She almost swooned right there.

"Sarah, are you alright?" asked Rory. At least her mind was off her sister, thought Sarah deliriously.

"I'm...I'm fine," she managed to say. "I just...really need my sleep."

Albus and Rory looked at each other and nodded. Between the two of them, Sarah was aided all the way back to the Common Room. She'd be getting three hours of sleep at the most, Sarah realized with a sense of dread. But it was hard to feel strong emotions, they had been drained from her like water from a tub. Her lassitude was such that she almost stopped at one point to lie down and sleep, but Albus and Rory pulled her up. She didn't remember any thoughts the entire journey back, though it seemed to pass like an eternity.

She felt a bit better at the last staircase, and climbed it herself. Rory and Albus seemed relieved. They stopped at the stairs going up to the girl's dorms. "Sarah, you may have to start taking naps," suggested Rory.

Sarah yawned. "It was only tonight, I should be fine."

Rory and Albus exchanged another glance. "You must have really fallen asleep while we were walking back," said Albus, "we thought you had for a minute, you were suddenly much heavier. Rory and I talked this over, and we think that we should keep going down. To keep track of her and such."

Sarah nodded sleepily. She didn't like the idea, but they could out-reason her at this point in the night. "Okay," she murmured.

"We're going to need you," said Rory. "Albus doesn't want us taking the cloak by ourselves, so he's going to go every night, but he's going to try to sleep sometimes too, so that it'll be more fair."

"I'm not losing this thing," said Albus, holding up the Cloak. "There are about a hundred generations of Potters and Peverells who would kill me." Sarah nodded again. It was about all she could do.

"We'll take alternating nights. I'd be willing to let you sit some out, if you're really tired," volunteered Rory. "I just want...Goodnight Albus," she said, waving him away as they ascended the stairs. She suddenly seemed a bit nervous and giggly. "I need you to switch with me, I don't want to be spending every night under an invisibility cloak with a boy, even if it is just Albus, I feel like that might be a little weird. At least you're related to him."

Sarah just nodded again. She only had one more memory of that night. As she was undressing, changing into bedclothes, she noticed the faint trails of long, whip-like scars across her torso and legs, scars she thought had long ago faded to nothing.

**Reviews? They'd be greatly appreciated!**


	13. Chapter 13

Sarah had a very strange few months. The nightly vigils at Peregrin the Paranoid's portrait were fruitless, they caught no more than a glimpse of Orianna, or the blur that she became. Not only that, alternating nights with Rory meant that she couldn't get her body completely used to either schedule. She couldn't fall asleep on her nights off, and could barely stay awake on "guard duty", as they had come to call it.

Maybe because of this excessive weariness, Sarah's performance in her classes began to drop. Each lesson, like each day, would slide by at a snail's pace, but leave nothing in her brain but a trail of slime. Charms was especially bad. Orianna never spoke, even when spoken to, but her constant vigilance unnerved Sarah. Professor Dorian seemed to notice this, and would set them up close to each other. She had always had to put in extreme effort to get even a passing grade in Charms, and now she wasn't even sure that was possible. In her last test, she had simply failed to produce the proper Color Swap Charm. Orianna just gave her that knowing look, and Sarah shuddered.

Only to add to the pressure, Sarah began waking up with headaches every night after guard duty, a dull pounding in her head that matched the pounding she heard every night behind the wall. She still hadn't figured out what it was, but it was getting stronger each minute she spent there. By the end of the night, her pulse, her heartbeat, her very thoughts were in synch with the primal drums beating beyond that door. She had asked Albus one night if he heard anything, attempting to be as nonchalant as possible. He replied that everything was silent to him. He even pressed his ear against the wall, through the cloak, and couldn't hear a thing.

Sarah still felt like she wanted to touch the wall, get near it. She and Albus would sit with their backs against the wall underneath Peregrin the Paranoid, just so Sarah could get lost in the beat. It felt good; there was adrenaline coursing through her system the whole night. Albus was usually asleep after the first couple minutes, since he had to go every night, Rory and Sarah agreed to let him sleep on the job. While he slept, Sarah would just lean back against the wall, and drink in the vibrations.

"Sarah, what's that on your arm?" asked Rory one morning at breakfast.

Sarah suppressed the sudden, uncharacteristic desire to snap back, "None of your business" and at least checked where Rory was pointing. There was indeed a large blotch on her arm, darkened tissue in a pattern a little bit like a sun. It looked like the shape of a burn in an object held too close above a candle. Sarah covered it with her hand, feeling oddly protective.

"It's a scar," she explained. "From when Brista kidnapped me. The Fiendfyre did a little damage." That wasn't strictly true. She had come out of the fire almost completely unharmed, but nonetheless, scars began appearing all over her body in a few weeks.

"Oh. I've never noticed it before."

"I guess you weren't really looking," retorted Sarah harshly. A twinge of guilt and a flare of pleasure flushed through her system. The guilt was coming from her conscious, but the pleasure seemed to come from her hot blood itself, pulsing in delight, the ever-present beat in her head quickening, with the slightest hint of a crescendo.

The comment was worsened by the fact that the scars hadn't been there before. Sarah's parents had taken her in to St. Mungo's when they started showing up, but the doctors just sent her home untreated. In time, they faded, until she forgot she even had them. Until she started guard duty, that is. Every night she spent there, they clarified, all up her legs and torso, until it looked like she had flames of dark flesh eating her up. It was beautiful, in a sick way, she thought to herself. Fortunately, Hogwarts robes were very modest. She was the only one who could appreciate the scars.

Her sudden shift in mood and personality had its effect in their little threesome. Rory was generally quiet unless someone engaged her who she knew, so without Sarah to make the conversations comfortable, the three of them did not talk much. Many more of their classes and walks between were spent in silence.

One day, on the way back to the Common Room after their last class, Sarah noticed a bit of glowing white hair popping out of the wall, then swinging back into it as if it were on a door hinge. She stopped to watch, as did Albus and Rory. The hair popped out again. It seemed short and curly, and Sarah was sure she remembered which ghost it belonged to. Besides, there was only one ghost who could swing his neck on a hinge like that without removing it entirely.

"Nick?" asked Albus. "You in there?" The hair retracted, then, after a just-to-long moment, the ghost himself drifted out.

"Indeed, sir, it is I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, at your service. What do you handsome young students require of me?" Like his neck-adornment, he looked a little ruffled.

"Nothing," said Albus warily. "What were you doing hanging out in the wall?"

Nick looked uncomfortable. "Ah. Yes. Well, to be honest, I spend a lot of time there, it is my spot for thinking. Every ghost in the school has one wall or another that is particularly thick, or remote, so that they can float to the middle and be undisturbed. I suppose I didn't go in far enough this time."

"Sorry to disturb you, sir," replied Rory, a bit embarrassed. Ghosts were always dressed in what they wore at the time of their death, but it still felt like they had somehow walked in on him naked.

"What were you hiding from?" asked Sarah, partially in concern, but also filled with a morbid curiosity.

"Hiding?" He seemed affronted at the idea. "I don't hide, I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington; I do not hide from anything." Sarah fixed him with a skeptical look. "I...I was however, thinking, perhaps maybe even worrying, though only about the fate of the school." He glided over to the window, almost disappearing in the setting sun. "Do you see that black cloud over the horizon?" he asked, pointing off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

The three of them moved to the window and nodded. "That is no ordinary cloud. It is smoke, rising from a Fiendfyre. This one has not been in the Prophet, though it is fairly well known. The smoke of a Fiendfyre does not disperse into the atmosphere, it hangs around until the fire itself is extinguished. So while we at the school are kept from any formal information, watching the size of that cloud can tell us all we need to know..."

"At least they would know when to evacuate students though," ventured Rory, in an attempt at comfort. "We'd all be gone long before the fire got close enough to threaten the school."

Nick did not look comforted. Instead, he looked worse than ever. His constant pallor seemed suddenly unhealthy, instead of just ghostly. "I cannot...nor can the other ghosts, leave the school. We would be forced to remain behind. The spell that leaves behind a ghost's imprint also ties that ghost to a location. Certainly, we have a good deal of wandering distance, but there is always a sort of magical rope, linking us back to our site of origin as a ghost."

"So?" asked Albus, laughing a little. "You're already dead, what's the worst that could happen?" But with a thrill of malice pumping through her hot blood, tingling in her scars, she knew what Nick was afraid of.

Nick did not seem, as usual, offended at the reference to his death. "Fiendfyre can kill ghosts," he whispered so quietly that Rory and Albus, who had not been expecting the answer, did not hear him.

"Sorry?"

"Fiendfyre, as you may or may not know, consumes other magic. The only thing keeping a ghost tied to this world is the magic bonds he or she created before death. Fiendfyre is one of the few things in the world that can eat through those bonds, and..." he trailed off.

Albus and Rory shifted uncomfortably. Death was not something they had much experience with, and comforting someone who had already died, and now thought themselves immortal...not even a professional counselor would be helpful here.

"I am comfortable with the idea of death," clarified Nick, talking more to himself than the three first years in behind him. He was still staring out the window. "To see so many friends, so may headmasters, students, even those as young and innocent as you, grow old, create something, continue their legacy and..." He stopped again. "I have often wished I chose that path, instead of this one. I have no doubt of the reality of the soul, or an afterlife, I have had more than enough experience with magic to know that there are things that are permanent, things that do not change. But I cannot help but wonder..."

The four of them stood there for almost a full minute. Sarah was glad they didn't have another class to get to. Though she felt a bit unworthy to contribute to his existential wondering, her curiosity was insatiable. "Wonder if what?"

Nick started, remembering that he was not alone. He had probably already finished the phrase in his thoughts, and merely failed to voice it. He sighed as he turned to them. "If I have already chosen my afterlife. If I had died five hundred years ago, I would be sure to continue on in another life, but now that my soul has been tied so inextricably to these bonds of magic...I wonder if you can truly destroy one, without the other."

Albus's mouth was hanging a bit open. He was starting to look like he regretted starting this conversation.

"Perhaps this is a similar dilemma to the one from my first death. There seems to be the possibility of continuation after my death, but the risk, the risk of losing myself to absolute nothingness is simply too great to face."

Albus and Rory managed to mutter token condolences, but Sarah was too fascinated. All sympathy had vanished to the idea of so utterly destroying someone. There was a sick appeal there, that would not have been a few days ago, before the perpetual beat, before the pounding, rushing awareness of every pint of blood in her system, before the hideous, extravagant scars now forming a mosaic of flame across her body.

But Nick seemed to be the only one fretting over death and tragedy. Spring was in the air, the ground, and the hearts of Hogwarts students. Romance too, seemed to be blossoming in every direction, among the older students. The night after their first trip to Peregrin, Teddy was announced as an Auror-in-Training protecting the school at dinner. He stood to receive polite applause from the younger students, and a more enthusiastic response from the older ones, who still remembered him from his time there.

He had acquired his father's thin build, though without the sickness of lycanthropy, he merely ended up tall and lanky. His hair and every appearance bent to his will, but they always seemed to revert to the same messy haircut and slightly over-large features. But for whatever reason, it seemed that Victoire's interest in him was genuine, because she seemed to glow whenever he was around, which was infrequent. Dinner was breakfast for him, most of his time was spent patrolling the halls at night, and sleeping in the day. For the few hours they overlapped, they seemed to spend all their time together, or at least that's what Sarah suspected. It would explain why Victoire tended to be in a better mood, and slightly redder, in the early morning and late evening.

One evening while Sarah and Albus were sneaking down to guard duty, Victoire caught the couple from the party snogging in the chair once more. The room was dark, but her eighth Veela-blood was really showing, because she seemed to be quite literally glowing as she entered the room. Catching sight of the couple, she just shook her head and cautioned: "Don't get carried away, now!" She then ascended the stairs to her dormitory, with just a hint of a skip in her step.

Dustin seemed to be doing pretty well too. At least, he seemed to enjoy spending time with Marissa, and she didn't seem to mind spending time with him. The only times Sarah had ever seen them together, they were debating the significance of various historical events, which was Dustin's favorite pastime. Personally, Sarah couldn't be less interested in whether or not the goblin uprisings during the Second War had brought them closer or further from wand legislation, but Dustin always seemed very engaged in the debates, as did Marissa in her own way. She was a little more dreamy than Dustin, he would offer concrete details, while she would contribute abstract ideas and notions that would bend his arguments. It seemed to infuriate and delight him at the same time.

Sarah's life seemed to bifurcate into two parts those months. On one hand, she would spend time with her friends during the day, enjoy watching happy romantic couples lolling about the ground, and fantasize eagerly about the time when she would be old enough to play match-maker for her friends. But every other night, and ever Charms class, the anger, the passion, and that unstoppable beat would return, pumping through her veins, dancing across her scars, strangling her reason, her conscious, her...

"Sarah," interrupted Professor Dorian. Sarah shook herself out of her reverie. "Thank you for deigning us with your attention. Have you given up entirely? Who knows, maybe this next test will be the one to break your streak." It was true, Sarah had simply failed to produce the required Charm the last few tests. If it weren't too late in the year to start another class, she would almost certainly have been in Remedial Charms.

But Sarah didn't feel anything at Professor Dorian's jabs. Just a crescendo in the beat, a flare through her blood. It was building, Sarah knew, to a climax. She didn't know what would happen then, or whether she would be at Peregrin the Paranoid's or in Charms, but something would happen when it did, something bad. It was a thought that bothered her when she wasn't enraptured with irresistible power of the rhythm vibrating through her body.

But Professor Dorian had lost interest, another student had just caused a desk to start jittering and vibrating across the floor like a massive cell phone. There was something bubbling in Sarah's chest, and it was a little worrying. But now there was only one person looking at her, and she was at the opposite side of the room. Sarah did what she could not to meet her gaze, but it was unnatural not to, it felt rude.

Orianna was still looking at her, her face too calm to be called staring. She was just waiting, and watching. Slowly, she cocked her head, searching for a different angle. As she did so, Sarah noticed something at the base of her neck. There was a thin, brown scar that receded quickly beneath her robes, but Sarah recognized it immediately. Orianna seemed to follow her gaze, her icy blue eyes meeting Sarah's green. She smiled and nodded, confirming Sarah's suspicion.

She too, bore a scar of Fiendfyre.

That night, as Sarah sat against Peregrin's wall, getting her fix for the unquenchable beat, her thoughts turned to Orianna. They were not so different, now that she thought about it. They bore the same scar, Sarah was sure that she too, heard the pounding of the beat in her head. Those were the only similarities she could think of, but when her thoughts were drowned out by the shuddering, sweeping sensations of the wall, only certain cadences could make their way into her mind.

Albus was asleep beside her, crumpled against the wall, and she was close to joining him. Other nights, the pounding had seemed invigorating, exciting, but now it was seductive, lulling her off to sleep. She closed her eyes as normal. It would be at least half an hour before Orianna made her nightly rounds here, and there was no reason she would do anything out of the ordinary. One circle around the floor, and then returning downstairs.

The cloak shifted, pulling across Sarah's body. She opened her eyes and yelped as an intense pain flared on the back of one of her knuckles. Her outburst was loud enough to escape the cloak and bounce around softly, causing the gargoyles to stand to attention and scan the corridor. Albus had shifted in his sleep, and dragged part of the Cloak along with him. She was still covered by the Cloak though, what had that sudden burning on her finger been? She sucked the third knuckle on her left hand, trying to figure out what she had been touching.

And the answer struck her, she was amazed she hadn't discovered it early. The wall itself was flaming hot, it could char her in seconds, if not for the subtle magic of the Cloak shielding them. Carefully, she lifted up one corner of the Cloak, making sure not to attract the gargoyle's attention. She could already feel the heat radiating from the wall. She suddenly became aware of a tingling across most of her lower body, and on a spot on the underside of her arm. It was a gentle tickling, like long grass swaying to a breeze.

Rolling up her sleeve, she looked at her arm, where she bore one of her many Fiendfyre scars. The entire mark was slowly, but resolutely dancing.

**Shorter chapter this week, but next week is when it gets good :) Reviews?**


	14. Chapter 14

That morning, Sarah's scars still danced. She woke earlier than the rest of her dorm despite her late night. The beat had ceased, but it had been replaced by a dull buzzing, an interlude before the climax, the return of the beat, and...well, she didn't know what else. As she showered, she was entranced by the gently swaying marks all over her stomach and legs. It seemed almost a crime to cover them once more, but she couldn't let anyone else behold them, this was her beauty alone. The curiosity was too strong to be completely controlled though, and she wore a robe with loose sleeves, so that she could, when no one was looking, sneak a glance at the scar on her arm. That one in particular blazed like a miniature sun, dripping magic into her blood as slowly and surely as an IV.

Albus and Rory seemed to notice something was wrong, maybe she was exuding some kind of aura. Either way, they seemed uncomfortable at breakfast, and sat further from her than normal. Rory opened her mouth a few times as if to say something, but nothing came out. Sarah was glad, she didn't really want to talk. She wasn't sure she would be able to. Thoughts slipped across her mind like it was a greased linoleum floor, none of them leaving any lasting impressions. She was in a state of near total anoesis.

In her classes that day, there was nothing but emotion, pure and uncensored. There was no shame at her reactions, at the vile thoughts that bubbled to the top of her mind. She almost snapped at Professor Longbottom for spending so much time helping those who couldn't even grasp basic gardening. She nearly hexed Professor Hornby for his blubbering incompetence at grading. Even Professor Orgill nearly faced her wrath, when he gave troublemakers no more than a stern look. He should have made examples of them, thought Sarah darkly. But it did not show. She kept a perfectly still face. Someone would experience this wrath bubbling inside her, but she would know when.

Lunch was a bit better. There was no talk of magic, only the Quidditch final that was happening later that day, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, the classic rivalry. The Slytherin Seeker was also a seventh-year, and certain to get the Snitch before Richards. The only question was whether or not he would get it before James and the Gryffindor Chasers built a 150 point advantage, for the Slytherin goalie was notoriously bad. Also, though James bragged as if it were a sure thing, there was speculation about whether or not he would beat the school record for assists. Sarah watched several bets change hands. Fred Weasley seemed to be the bookie.

In Charms, she could feel the pressure building. Professor Dorian was being no more callous, no more infuriating than normal, but she did not know how her victim had changed.

That day, they started Vibration. "This first year is mostly about movement, as the enlightened student is sure to have noticed," she explained at the beginning of the class. "Generally, we've kept it simple. Levitation, Summoning, Banishing, one push and that's it. Not to say it hasn't challenged some of you," she added, pausing as she swept past Sarah's desk. "But I, for one am glad that they have regrouped the curriculum. Summoning wasn't learned till the fourth year in the past, though it fits better with levitation than conjuration." She turned swiftly on her heel.

"That being said, Vibration Charms are some of the more difficult ones we are to perform this year. The motion is in no way simple, and must be controlled precisely, or the object will shake itself to pieces. However, when done masterfully, it can be used not only to shake ordinary objects, but also to produce certain pitches, if done with delicate objects, and precision. This, for instance, is middle C." She shook her wand, and a mug on her desk buzzed.

Carter shuddered. "She's a little flat," he whispered to Cassandra Westfold. Sarah wished he had said it louder. She was longing for some confrontation, and if it wouldn't come around naturally, she might just have to force it upon the class.

"The incantation, which you may have noticed I have managed to do without, it '_Divorto_'." Sarah scowled. This arrogant woman was nothing, nothing compared to the true, unquenchable magic burning within her. Even though she never uttered it aloud, she still mentally shackled her magic with an incantation, with the rules she constructed in her head. That was not how magic was supposed to be.

Inside, Sarah was brimming with fury, but some greater conscious controlled it, told her to bide her time. She snuck a look at her arm. The scar still swayed subtly. She looked up. Orianna was watching her, but for once, Sarah didn't mind. Orianna wasn't worried about rules, about what people were allowed to do with magic, she wasn't interested in creating boundaries; she was interested in breaking them. And though Sarah's mind fought a tiny rebellion in the back of her subconscious, the magic flowing through her veins saw in her a kindred spirit.

"Wands out, you should have read about incantation and movements for last night." There was movement surrounding her, but Sarah sat still. Rory nudged her.

"Sarah!" she hissed. But Sarah didn't even notice. She broke contact with Orianna's gaze, and turned it to Professor Dorian.

Professor Dorian was strolling around the room, giving minor pointers and criticisms. No one was having any success, something that normally would have buoyed Sarah's spirits (to know that she wasn't alone), but tonight, she felt nothing but disdain. She instinctively knew that she could perform this spell. Right now, she could perform any spell, if she just let out the raging maelstrom of magic whirling in her soul.

She was acutely aware of that—her soul, that is—as well, she realized. The magic seemed to be traveling through the highways of her soul, which, when used only by her spirit, were invisible to her. But now, now that the pathways were being crowded, her soul and her conscious were being pushed off the roads along which they traveled.

The rest of the students were trying and failing to bind the magic down, force it to do their will, but they had not even the resolution to keep it limited. If they could not even control the weak magic of incantations, how could they hope to restrain and shape the kind of magic that now burned within her? No, they were all inferior, and they would know how much so shortly.

"Not even trying today, are we?" asked Professor Dorian suddenly. Sarah just glowered up at her. Professor Dorian's nasty smile faltered, but she recuperated. "It's probably for the best, why waste your time and effort? What would make this spell, the one twice as difficult, the one you could finally cast?" It was a nice recovery, but Sarah had seen the fear in her eyes. It had always been there, she realized. Not just of her, but of all students. She was a sad, pathetic little woman, and Sarah would show her her place.

She didn't withdraw her wand that entire class. She just crossed her arms across her chest and sat perfectly still in her chair. Albus and Rory just sat awkwardly next to her, practicing the spell with no success. They clearly wanted to figure out what was going on, but she didn't react to their inquiring looks.

"Sarah?" asked Rory a few minutes from the end of class. "Can you hear us?"

"I don't think she can..." mouthed Albus. But Sarah's eyes moved to his face, and he shrunk back.

"I know you can hear us," asserted Rory with more confidence than Sarah knew that she felt. "Tell us what you're doing! You can trust us! Why won't you talk?" Half of Sarah's mouth lifted involuntary into what could only be described as a snarl. Certainly, she could trust them, but what would it mean? They could never understand the immeasurable power inside her. No, her only true confidant in the room was Orianna, though they had exchanged not a word.

Later in the class, not much progress had occurred. Students fumbled with the charm, none of them able to sustain it for more than a mere shake or two. Sarah still sat there, basking in the warmth filling her from the inside. Her eyes were closed, but she knew everything that was going on around her. Rose, sitting in the desk behind her, was scandalized by Sarah's refusal to try the charm, though she tried to hide it. Next to her was Cassandra Westfold, who was carefree, probably chatting animatedly with her, or perhaps at her, and Marcus was angry and a little uncomfortable at the two girl's proximity. Sarah could almost smell their emotions.

With some pleasure, she realized she could sense what everyone was feeling. Rory, beside her was nervous and insecure, like always. Pitiful. Albus was simply confused, and a little put out. Behind her, there was embarrassment, someone had just failed to hold down the magic, it had burst out of their wand with a sound like flatulence. There was mirth, as people reacted. There was arrogance, there was calm. And there was Orianna. Her emotions were blocked, as if she wore a lead helmet, but Sarah knew how she felt. Fiendfyre had marked them both.

The class was nearly over. Professor Dorian stood at the front of the room now, feeling an odd mix of pleasure and disdain for Sarah, and perhaps still a twinge of fear? "Sarah," she said, a bit less harshly than before. "I'm afraid I can't give you credit for the day if you haven't at least given the spell a try. It's not my rule, it's up to the governors."

Sarah considered whether or not to even acknowledge her. She did, but only by opening her eyes. Professor Dorian looked a bit relieved. She was afraid of her. "You just need to take out your wand, and try the spell."

Sarah didn't budge for a moment, but the fear and desperation radiating off of Rory were so strong that the last twinges of conscious flowing through her forced her to movement. She withdrew the wand from her robes and placed it on the table. There was nothing inherently wrong with wands, the strange magic inside her reasoned. They were no more than a conduit to greater magic, unnecessary perhaps, but acceptable.

Sarah didn't really understand any of the thought processes going on in her head. To her conscious mind, it was like she was in a dream, and, like a dream, there was an odd logic governing all she did. In some way, this made sense, she just didn't yet understand how.

"Now, just wave the wand around, and say something that sounds like the incantation, and I'll give you credit for the day, if not for successfully casting the spell. Not that that would have happened either way," she jabbed, regaining some of her old cruelty. Someone giggled, but the class was growing uncomfortably silent. Sarah felt a building rage at her suggestion. Not at the insult, that was normal, and untrue. But she could not control the magic inside her with an incantation. It would be near sacrilege.

But Professor Dorian wanted magic, and it was magic she would get. Slowly, she raised the wand from table level to eye level, and pointed at a lantern with a red candle on Professor Dorian's desk. Without flicking her wand, or even the slightest hint of a syllable, the lantern began to rise in the air. A few "Ooo!"s came from the class. Wandless magic, even of the most basic variety wasn't covered until the fifth or sixth year. Sarah felt a flash of surprise and a flare of fear from Professor Dorian, and she loved it. Her scars were burning with a flame of excitement.

"Sarah," said Dorian, almost breathlessly. "Sarah, you need to say the incantation. I can't give you credit without the incantation."

Sarah didn't react, but the lantern began to buzz. "The incantation Sarah. Just say the spell, that's all I want. Divorto. Say Divorto." The hinge rattled clamorously, but the flame stayed perfectly still. The shaking was growing uncontrollable now, like the pulsing of Sarah's veins, the magic running through. The beat was returning to accompany the buzz, resounding throughout the entire classroom. Others could hear it too now, for they were looking around in confusion.

"Sarah, stop!" cried Rory. The buzzing was reaching ear-splitting levels and pitches. People were covering their ears, not sure whether to be annoyed or impressed. The glass windows of the lantern shattered and fell tinkling to the ground. Hot wax was splashing away from the candle's flame. It was melting faster than was natural, her spell seemed to be feeding the flame until it was the size of a small torch. The candle didn't stand a chance.

"The incantation Sarah!" yelled Professor Dorian, pulling out her wand. "_Nox!_" she yelled at the flame. It wavered, but nothing more. A bit put out, Professor Dorian tried again. This time, Sarah felt the chill shooting from the candle, straight down her wand and into her arm. She jumped to her feet in rage. She was magic; she was flame. Professor Dorian could not just kill this part of her out of fear or annoyance.

"_Nox Maxima!_" shouted Professor Dorian, and the flame vanished, the lantern crashed to the ground and broke apart at the seams, metal and glass sprinkling the floor. The nub of a candle rolled across the floor like a severed head, and a tiny part of Sarah died. The beat, the buzzing were gone, and the class was picking itself up like the survivors after the Hogsmeade incident. But Sarah was not done. Professor Dorian needed to know what she had done to Sarah, what she had killed. The magic still boiled and frothed in her blood. She dropped her wand, which clattered to the ground.

"Sarah," sighed Dorian, evidently wearied by the spells. Sarah rolled up the sleeve of her left arm. "I don't know how long you've been able to do wandless magic but..." Sarah closed her hand around the still-dancing, weaving miniature sun burning on the underside of her forearm, and with a sound like the air rushing out of the lungs of a man stabbed, Professor Dorian was picked from her feet and hurled against the blackboard, which fell onto her with a resounding crash.

Someone shrieked, but Sarah collapsed back in her seat in sheer ecstasy as the waves of magic so long pumping through her system were released in one nearly orgasmic blow. Her scars throbbed with a tickling lightheartedness, then faded to nothing, leaving her bare and unblemished. She let a happy sigh escape her, and felt nothing but an overwhelming desire to sink into a deep sleep.

And then the blackboard stirred. Professor Dorian crawled out from underneath, a bit bloodied, a more than a bit surprised, but alive. She didn't even look angry. But suddenly, Sarah was Sarah once more, and the memory of everything she had done swarmed back like a dam was broken in her mind. It was a good thing she had already collapsed back, because every muscle in her body suddenly turned to jelly. She couldn't breathe, or think, or resist as Orianna got up and yanked her to her feet, leading her out of the room. No one resisted, in fact. No one knew what to do.

Sarah felt no more kinship to Orianna. That had been the magic, not her, and though she was now herself again, free of the effects of the magic, she could tell that Orianna was not. She was vile, and at that moment, Sarah hated her even more than Rory did. But she did not have the strength to resist as Orianna dragged her down the hall, nor the moral force to do it.

Without even asking, Sarah knew that she was being taken to the Headmaster's office. There was no where else she could go. She was being expelled, and she deserved it. She attacked a teacher, and almost hurt her severely. Professor Dorian was young, she could take it, but what if it had been Professor Hornby? He would have snapped like a twig. Sarah felt sick to her stomach, and nearly retched. It was good she hadn't eaten anything at lunch.

"So Sarah," said Orianna. A wave of disgust swept over Sarah. "Now you know what it's like. What I feel everyday." Sarah tried to pull away, to walk on her own. Her efforts were so feeble that she didn't know if Orianna even noticed. "You may despise me now," she admitted. "I understand what my associates did to you...And oh yes, I know you figured out my pact with Brista and Claire..." Suddenly Sarah snapped to attention. Claire, that must be the name of the other woman. But what did it matter now? "...may have predisposed you to set yourself against us. But you fight the inevitable. You are one of the few in the world who can truly understand us now, who we would consent to allow into our intimate little circle."

Sarah couldn't keep it back, and retched once. If these three women were offering her a position in their group, after everything they had done to her, to her friends? "You're still silent, I see," said Orianna after a minute. "I was too after my first release. High magic is a powerful drug. You'll find yourself craving it once more though. And when you do, you'll find yourself a bit more favorably inclined to experiment with us." She stopped in front of an ugly gargoyle.

"Race car." The gargoyle began to spin in place, a spiral stair rising from beneath. This must be the headmaster's office. "Besides," added Orianna. "What else can an expelled witch do?" And with a cruel smile and pat on the back, she shoved her forward into the ascending stairs.

Every muscle in her body quailing, she reached the top of the stairs. There was a small waiting room, no more than two chairs and a door. It took her nearly a full minute to lift her arm and knock. The scar on her arm was completely gone, she noted as her sleeve fell.

Professor Elihphile opened the door slowly. He had shaved the handlebar mustache he sported last night at dinner. "Good day, Sarah," he said. Sarah didn't ask how he knew her name. "I have only heard preliminary reports of the incident in today's Charms class, and will thus avoid even a discussion with you. Bias might be formed unnecessarily. Therefore I must ask you to wait while I accrue information." Sarah tried to nod, but she wasn't sure if she had. She felt hollow as she slowly made her way over to the seats and sat down. The door closed. Expelled in her first year. Even Harry Potter hadn't gone to the Headmaster's Office till his second year. This might be some kind of record.

Over the next few hours, there was a parade of personalities streaming past her, none of them giving her a second glance. First was Professor Dorian, still bloodied and a little frightened, but regaining her pride. Orianna was next, though she didn't even glance at Sarah. Suprisingly, Rory was third, though she was led by Professor Hornby, so the two of them didn't get a chance to even meet eyes. Another Professor passed as they left, the Astronomy teacher, Professor Thorton.

After that, the visitors were less sensible. Teddy Lupin was next, his skin and hair both a somber gray. Following him was Harry Potter himself, who rushed in without even noticing Sarah. Nearly Headless Nick was next, though only the tips of his slippers were hanging through the ceiling of the room Sarah was in. Then came the caretaker, Antiok, the one Albus claimed had killed an Auror. That couldn't be a good sign, thought Sarah, trying to swallow, but finding her throat not to be functioning. All they could do was expel her, right? And she still had family, it wasn't too late to go back to Muggle school.

But even the thought was inexpressibly boring. And yet, her crushing guilt told her she deserved it. If she couldn't control her magic, she couldn't be part of the magical world. Sarah felt another jolt of panic in her stomach as a committee of three men in Ministry robes entered the office. Were they going to arrest her? She had always thought that Hogwarts was in charge of its own discipline, but maybe she was wrong. Or maybe she didn't count as a Hogwarts student once expelled.

She didn't know what time it was, but each time the door opened, less light from the windows was streaming in. It must be almost sunset. Though each moment seemed like an eternity, they all seemed to have passed in an instant as the Ministry men left and the last one, a balding man with a kind face whispered to her, "He's ready for you now."

Uncle Harry had once said something about being dragged in to face your death versus walking in with your head held high. She certainly didn't deserve to have her head high, but she would not quail as the sentence came. Professor Elihphile sighed as she entered. He had sad eyes and a weak jaw, making him look almost as pathetic as her. It made sense for him to always have a beard.

"Sit down," he said quietly. The chair seemed to get further from her as she walked towards it, like the dreams she used to have where she would try to run from some monster, but wouldn't go anywhere, no matter how hard she tried. This was the opposite though. The monster wasn't behind her, and she wasn't running away. Sitting down would be accepting whatever sentence he chose to impart, and that was what was scary.

But she made it, and sat down. "Sarah," said Professor Elihphile. "I understand that when you were young, you were caught in an unfortunate Fiendfyre."

The question caught her totally off-guard. "What? I mean, yes, I was." Her brain, which had previously been trying to figure out what she could possibly do to make a living in the Muggle world, was snapped back to their current conversation.

"For your information, Professor Dorian does not want to ruin you. Despite her injuries, she was treated in her classroom, instead of going to the hospital wing."

"Sir?" asked Sarah. He was making no sense whatsoever.

"If a student attacks a teacher with malicious intent, and injures him or her severely enough to require treatment in the Hospital Wing, according to the Board of Governors, expulsion is mandatory, regardless of extenuating circumstances."

"I...I'm not expelled?" asked Sarah, incredulously.

"Not yet. You made mistakes, and I must condemn them, and punish them as well, though the mistakes themselves are not serious enough for such permanent consequences. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and refused to leave."

"Sir?" asked Sarah again. She was so confused she wasn't even sure if she was relieved not to be expelled.

"These are magical concepts more complex than any I would like my first-years to be dealing with," dismissed Professor Elihphile. "But there is one question I must ask. Were you once more exposed to Fiendfyre this year, or something of the kind?" His face was grim and dark.

Sarah opened her mouth once or twice. Honesty was the only way for her to get out of this, but she didn't want to implicate Rory or Albus. She couldn't figure out how to leave them out though, and his eyes were piercing her like nails. She just hoped he wouldn't ask any follow-up questions.

"Yes, I have. Or I think so," she qualified quickly.

"Indeed? Where?"

"At Peregrin the Paranoid's portrait, sir."

Professor Elihphile frowned. "I suspected as much, though I don't understand how you could absorb so much residual magic from just...ah..." A sad sort of smile broke across his face. "Young Mr. Potter's cloak?" Sarah didn't have to nod. Her eyes revealed it. He sighed again.

"Miss Dursley, you have been unknowingly playing with forces far out of your grasp. While I do not blame you, and am not sure I would have acted differently in your situation, certain steps must be taken to avoid a repeat of this scenario." He waited as if for a response, but Sarah was silent. The guilt was now burning insider her like magic had been, but now it was a longing for relief and repentance instead of irrational excitement.

Professor Elihphile's dark eyes were watery. "As for punishment, I believe that you are a good enough person to inflict it upon yourself." For a moment, Sarah was confused, but he continued. "From what I've heard of your character, the guilt you feel now, and will probably continue to feel, will be more punishment than you really deserve."

Sarah exhaled, and suddenly found herself beginning to cry. It was silly and embarrassing but she couldn't help it, there was just too much that she didn't understand, and the weariness that had come upon her so many hours ago in Charms was even stronger. "S...sir?" she gasped. "How can I...make it go away? How can I feel better?"

"I assume you refer to your guilt. Well, Guilt is the stigma of the righteous alone, so you must either slip into wickedness and debauchery, or raise your standards, and thus implement the change to assuage your conscious. Which brings me to the next point, of what must be done."

Sarah nodded. She was ready for this now. Professor Elihphile hadn't wanted to punish her all along, he only wanted what was best. "I am going to ask of you three things, each more difficult than the last. If you find yourself struggling with any one of these, I would encourage you to report to me. You now know my password, I will send you an owl each time it changes." That was a bit odd. Personal access to the Headmaster's Office was a very rare thing. But now was not the time for questions.

"Firstly, I must ask you to rid yourself of any hatred you find in yourself, no matter the severity or justification. You may no longer entertain fantasies of harm or embarrassment for those you find yourself in disagreement. Seek for reconciliation before warfare." Sarah's mind flashed back to the occasional daydreams of James knocking Richards off his broom, or helping Rory hex Orianna to pieces. They weren't serious, she was no weirdo, but they were there. "This includes Professor Dorian. I have spoken to Professor Thorton, the Astronomy Professor, and he has agreed to teach you Charms for the remainder of the year, to keep you two temporarily apart, but you must respect her as a person. You cannot bear any resentment or hate towards her, or anyone."

Sarah considered for a moment. "You're telling me...not to have enemies?"

"No Sarah. I'm telling you to love your enemies."

"How Christian of you," replied Sarah, coming off a bit more sarcastic than she liked.

"Thank you, sincerely," replied Professor Elihphile. He either failed to recognize her tone or viewed it as such a compliment as to work either way. He continued. "Secondly, I would ask you, do you have any evening classes or obligations?"

Sarah thought for a moment. "No, other than homework."

"I would like you to start Professor Antiok's Occlumency class. It meets every Wednesday night immediately after dinner."

Several questions came to Sarah's mind at once, and she foolishly tried to express them all at once. "I...Profess...Occlumency?"

Professor Elihphile smiled. "I'll give you a moment to collect yourself."

"Professor Antiok? Isn't he the caretaker?"

"Indeed he is. Many staff members serve double duties here at Hogwarts. Hagrid is one example, Professor Hornby serves by my side as well as teaching. Even I have offered classes when the fancy strikes me."

He notably failed to mention any murdered Aurors, so Sarah hoped all those stories were fabricated. "Isn't Occlumency for fifth-years and above?"

"Yes, though do not worry. I do not expect you to pass. I would be astounded, and suspect dishonesty if you did. But the principles you learn are more important than the grade."

"Isn't...isn't Occlumency about stopping mind reading, sir?"

"To some degree."

"Is someone trying to read my mind?"

"I think that unlikely."

There was a pause as Sarah struggled to discern his reasoning.

"Why are you having me take it then?"

"Sarah, I do not think this is a time for you to question my judgment." Once again, they lapsed into silence. Sarah was beginning to droop in her chair. Whatever she had done back there, it had exhausted her. Occlumency was only open beginning at the fifth-year, and the students who took it were mostly specialists in their sixth or seventh-years. Even the thought of her new workload made her nearly pass out. And the last thing was even harder, he had said.

"Finally," he said with great gravity, "I must ask you not to return to Peregrin's hallway." That was it? She could do that easy, she had come to dread the place in some regards. "I doubt you will appreciate why this is such a perilous request right now, but, as you may have figured out, Peregrin guards the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Trapped inside are dangers inexpressible for both the school and your soul. I would ask you to leave this to those with greater knowledge."

So at least there was a little vindication for her today. She had been right about Peregrin, not that it mattered. Her part in investigating Orianna was dead for the year. Rory would understand that. It would only lead her into more trouble, and she could not return here.

Professor Elihphile stood. "I believe we have done all we can today. I expect weekly reports, either to me personally, or if you are comfortable, through any staff member. I will recall you here if you do not report. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," replied Sarah as she got to her feet.

"Go," he said, more kindly than the word itself would imply. "And be careful."

Suddenly, the investigations of an entire year flooded into Sarah's mind, every theory, every adventure, all the evidence incriminating Orianna. Perhaps he would just laugh at her, but she suddenly knew that she had to at least try to tell him. "Sir?" she asked one more time.

"That is enough for now Sarah. We can discuss more in the morning, if you truly want to. Though I dare say you have had enough for today."

When Sarah arrived back at Gryffindor Tower, there was a party in full swing. Slytherin had caught the Snitch, but it was precisely at the moment that James brought the lead up to 160 points, guaranteeing the victory. Unfortunately, because he had scored the last goal himself, he had still only tied the school record, but no one even thought to bring in the bets against him. They were politely forgotten as a manner of congratulations.

Word of what Sarah had done seemed to have spread only around the first-years, for everyone else was patting her on the back and congratulating her as if she had been there herself. Albus and Rory were alone in the corner of the room, looking worried. They both jumped to their feet as they saw her, and Rory pushed her hair behind her ears.

"Are you alright?" they asked, almost simultaneously.

"And are you in trouble?" added Albus. Rory nudged him, scolding him for his insensitivity.

Sarah nodded slowly, and managed to recount what had happened, but she was swaying on the spot from weariness. Rory told Sarah what Professor Elihphile had asked her. It was mostly questions about her character, and how she was as a witch, and whether or not she had been acting any differently that day.

Sarah couldn't remember how, but the next thing she knew, she was in bed, and asleep in an instant. She had a long, odd dream that night. She was in a massive room filled with nothing but pure white flames. She extended her arms out to the side, and, like a dragon breathing fire in reverse, began to suck the flames into her hands and arms. It filled her up, but it wasn't enough, it was never enough. She seemed to stand there for hours.

And then she was awake, shaking, and in extreme pain. Her body seemed to be on fire with fever, and yet chills shook it like earthquakes. A cold sweat was running all across her body. She tried to move, to get the glass of water Rory had set on the bedstand, but she couldn't she was so weak. Her heart beat at a hundred times the normal rate, she could feel it thundering in her chest. Her hands were shaking so much, they looked almost blurry to her, though perhaps that was her vision. She moaned, she couldn't help it.

Rory was in front of her, panicked. She asked her something; Sarah could not decipher it. She was suddenly gone, then back in a few seconds, this time with Victoire. Victoire gave Rory a few instructions, then began to mop Sarah's brow with a handkerchief as Rory left once more. Within a few seconds, Rory was back, with Teddy Lupin. He must have been nearby, his patrol normally spanned the entire school. He lifted her up like a bag of flour. Why hadn't he just levitated her?

When she woke up for the next time she was in the hospital wing.

"No magical treatment?" came a woman's voice. It must have been Madam Pomfrey.

"None. You'll find the Muggles deal with this problem too, though for rather different reasons." That one was Professor Elihphile.

"You know I'll run out of these novelty Muggle potions long before her withdrawal ceases."

"The Muggles call them drugs, or medication, and Arthur Weasley has a few contacts at Muggle Hospitals. I'm sure he'll be able to acquire some." The curtain on her bed withdrew. She was correct in her interpretation of the voices, but she closed her eyes quickly to appear sleeping. "Poor little one," said Professor Elihphile. "You don't know how hard these next few months will be."


	15. Chapter 15

Professor Elihphile was right. The next few months were some of the hardest of Sarah's life thus far. As Madam Pomfrey explained the morning after her sickness, Sarah was suffering from "Magic Withdrawal Syndrome," a rare condition that only exhibited itself in patients with continual exposure to strong magic, like Fiendfyre. There were other documented cases among theoretical magical researchers, but never in so young a person.

It was an awful disease. In addition to the recurring tremors, fevers, sweats, and even nausea, Sarah found herself plagued by mental instability. She was alternatively paranoid, lethargic, restless, distracted, emotional, or simply unfeeling. She recognized all the symptoms in herself, but she couldn't do anything about them but wait.

For the first week or so, she was confined to the Hospital Wing, and though she received visits and her assignments from Albus and Rory, as well as Rose, Carter and the Westfold twins, she could not find the energy or focus to complete them. Madam Pomfrey would encourage her to, but she would simply sigh and give up after a few minutes.

When she returned to her classes, she found herself hopelessly lost, and without the energy or enthusiasm to catch up. Some days, she would wake up in her bed and find herself simply unable to move. She often missed class those days. Some of her Professors were understanding, like Professor Orgill, or Longbottom. They did their best to help her get back on top of things, but even they had to give up eventually.

Another odd phenomenon she began to notice as the weeks and months went on was that the closer she got to Peregrin the Paranoid and the Room of Requirement, the better she would feel. Her symptoms began to disappear entirely when she was in the same hallway, but they would come back as she left, and even worse than they had been at the beginning. With a massive force of will, she managed to steer away from that hallway, from the voices of magic calling her back. She was starting to wonder if Orianna was after the Room of Requirement at all, and if she hadn't simply accidentally become addicted to its magic like Sarah.

Fundamentally, it was still the first-year in Hogwarts, so it was difficult to fail, even with severe disease limiting mental abilities, and in general the teachers were sympathetic. Her new Charms teacher, the coolly handsome Professor Thorton, was distracted, more worried about grading his Astronomy Papers than helping Sarah, but with a one-to-one teacher to student ratio, Sarah's progress was still better than it had been under Professor Dorian. Even though she had never received worse marks in her life, Sarah was still managing to pass every class.

Or, every class but one. In Occlumency, she was lucky to score any points on a test or assignment. Her first class was indicative of the rest of the year.

She walked in late, she had been lost and out of energy. "I'm sorry," she mumbled to no one in particular, "I took a wrong turn at the..."

"Northwest Potions Corridor, I know," came a voice from the front of the room. Professor Antiok was standing at the front of the class, his disturbing yellow eyes seeming to burrow into her skull. Sarah felt a strange sensation, like there was a slimy hand running up the back of her neck. She shook her head, slightly disturbed. "Please take a seat."

There were only five desks in the room despite its size. Four of them were occupied. As she learned later, one was a Hufflepuff sixth-year, another was a Ravenclaw fifth-year, two more were Slytherin, though she never figured out how old they were. No one spoke in that class, but neither of them seemed to even have the ability to. All she knew is that they were large and intimidating. Only the Ravenclaw was female.

For some reason, her mind seemed clearer in this classroom though. That was probably a good sign, even Professor Elihphile told her that she was going to fail. Maybe Professor Antiok was nicer than he looked though, the other teachers had been going easy on her and...

"Miss Dursley, as you are new to this class, I do not expect you to know my standards. You, after all, cannot perform Legimency. But no, I am no nicer than I look, and I will not go easier on you. My current students are struggling, a first-year has no chance. It is not a question of determination or intelligence."

Well. That solved that. He must be reading her mind, and it was oddly violating. She made a mental note not to think of anything embarrassing or secret. Of course, having done so, everything secret or embarrassing she had ever been involved in bubbled to the front of her mind, though she tried to suppress it. Antiok grinned. "Feel no shame, Sarah. Legimency with this ease can only be performed on those with no training whatsoever, or those with training, but without the will to use it, like our good Miss Flynn over here." He turned to the Ravenclaw girl. "That is disgusting, by the way, and you are far too young to be doing anything of the kind."

To her credit, the girl didn't blush or even look embarrassed, she just met his eye, and evidently thought of something very disturbing. "Well, with that lovely image to pop up in my mind tonight, I think we'll start the lesson."

He turned to the blackboard. "If you will remember, which three of you do, the Bornhaus Exclusionary Theory and applications in defense of the mind, you, during your reading this week, must have come to the conclusion that while effective, it is lacking in both staying power and counter-attacking potential. Why much we study it then? Because under dire straights, Bornhaus defenses are easier to start then Diversionary Defense. What is the difference? We must remind ourselves the fundamental foci of each strategy, whether within the present self or past, or outside upon the attacker."

And Sarah was lost. She was desperately flipping through the ratty old book she had borrowed from the school's collection. After a few minutes of emotional trauma, flipping through the book as fast as she could to get an instant background in each term he introduced, she decided that she was so far behind it would be better just to listen to the lecture and write down terms to use later. But even that was so hard, and her energy levels were failing, all she could think of was curling up in bed, maybe at home for a change, far away from all this danger and magic...

"Miss Dursley, you are distracted. Try not to be so." And so the class went. He scolded Sarah the most frequently, followed by the Ravenclaw girl, then Hufflepuff, and finally the two Slytherins. He didn't seem to favor them, on all assignments they seemed to get lower grades then the rest of the class, obviously excluding Sarah. Perhaps he didn't think they were worth the time.

Since the class met only once a week, it was especially long. Sarah wondered if a mind with absolutely nothing in it would be harder to extract valuable information from. If that was the case, she could understand Antiok's strategy. It wasn't boring, certainly, it was just so far above her level that the words became meaningless. By the time of the first exam, she had perhaps a general idea of how the concepts related to each other, but not what any of them meant. She felt like pigeons trained to "read" by conditioning responses to changing words. Nonetheless, the symptoms of her withdrawal seemed to lessen whenever she was in his room. It was certainly easier to muster the energy to try in his classroom than in any other.

The exams were rather unconventional. As he explained to Sarah, "I have already used this method on the rest of the class, but it does warrant some explanation. I am going to check your progress in this class. If I can discover it, you have failed, though partial credit will be awarded for causing me difficulty. Miss Flynn."

The Ravenclaw girl stood and fixed him with a withering glare. He laughed. "Mental intimidation will not work on an opponent such as I, though I applaud you for your efforts." The girl clenched her eyes shut. Withdrawing his wand and rolling up his long, ratty sleeves, Antiok prepared himself as well. Then, raising his wand, he spoke: "_Legilimens!_" The girl shuddered, shook like something slimy was crawling up her back. Her mouth was slowly opened as if she were trying to breathe with something heavy on her chest. Her eyes fluttered, and Antiok pressed his wand forward, his face locked in absolute intensity.

And suddenly, they both stumbled back, gasping. "Better than I expected, given your performance in class," said Professor Antiok quickly, to avoid the silence. "It seems I misjudged you. However, your memories are, in fact forfeit, as you no doubt know. Therefore, I must, as policy fail you. Take hope however, your Bionni form of counter-attack was especially effective due to the speed of your response, though vulnerable to refutation by sheer force of will, which, as you should know, I have in copious amounts. Were you to follow up with perhaps an Ausenheim offensive, I would be forced perhaps to end the spell, or let you at my own memories." Flynn (Sarah never heard her first name) looked sick. "Well?" asked Antiok after a moment. He too, seemed shaken. "Dismissed!"

Flynn managed to stagger to the door. The other students seemed to put up longer fights than Flynn, but none of them seemed to be as effective at counter-attacks. Antiok was not even wearied by invading their minds. Nonetheless, because of the length of the siege, he gave two of them nearly passing grades. He dismissed them when they were done as well. Soon, Sarah was alone in the room with Antiok.

He sighed as she stood. "Miss Dursley, even without formal use of the _Legilimens_ spell, I can already perceive almost everything happening in your head. Are you sure you would like to even take this test?" Sarah considered it for a moment.

"What will happen if I don't?"

"Well you'll fail, with no points at all. In general, I'm giving about a point per second I'm denied entry to your memories, but I can explore your thoughts right now, before we've even started."

Sarah sighed. "I have to try," she said weakly. "And any points are better than none."

Antiok shrugged. "As you would have it. Prepare yourself."

Sarah suddenly realized she had no idea how to defend herself. She had heard the theories of all the different defenses, but she had never tried any of them herself. And right now, with Professor Antiok leveling her wand at her face, suddenly her mind was blank, though that might actually help in the long run...

"_Legilimens_!" he intoned gracefully. For a second, Sarah tried the only counter-measure in her mind, the Bornhaus method, the one he had specifically told them was ineffective, but easy. It was simply the exclusive focus on a single object, in this case, a flagstone at Sarah's feet. But before she could even securely image it in her head, she began to feel drowsy, unsteady on her feet. There were tendrils of warmth inching their way up her neck, into her skull, and she submitted without even a fight.

Memories flashed past like billboards on a speeding train. She was trapped in Brista's burning house, she was waving goodbye to Dustin his first year. She was sitting in the classroom, just moments ago, she was wondering about Orianna. She was sitting, back against the wall, in front of Peregrin the Paranoid, she was walking into her dormitory to find Rory changed into Orianna, she was watching her detonate the town of Hogsmeade, she was...

...suddenly awake on the classroom floor. Professor Antiok was sitting on the desk, slightly perturbed. That was not where he had been when they started. She wondered if she had been out for long.

"How long did I repel you?" she asked, attempting boldness.

"Not long enough to be considered even a formal attempt. Though based on what you seemed to remember from my classes, I'm impressed there was any resistance at all." Sarah wondered if that meant no points at all, or maybe a few for what little she mustered, given her knowledge of the subject. She had given up the idea of passing the subject, even discounting all the assignments that she would automatically fail from the first half of the semester, before she took the class. But even a few points would help her self-respect, which was lacking a bit after being sick for so long, and falling so far behind in her classes.

Professor Antiok made no move to talk. He had dismissed the other students after the test, but he didn't even look at Sarah. She stood there for a few long minutes, but he made no move to speak to her, or dismiss her. She glanced at the clock. If she had any hope of getting her homework done before bed that night, she would have to leave soon. But maybe she should just abandon that idea too. There she just didn't find that she had motivation to work after she left this classroom. The symptoms of her magic withdrawal returned with every step away from this room. The two places in the school that made her feel better were here and Peregrin's portrait, and the latter was off-limits, because it was harmful in the long run. It would only re-addict her. She didn't really understand why this room helped her. Perhaps after so much Occlumency practiced in here, it was just harder for magic to effect people's minds in its walls. Perhaps Antiok was shielding the room himself, so that he could have lone access to his student's minds. Still, Sarah supposed she would have to be grateful for that.

She looked at the clock again, this time more pointedly, hoping to remind Professor Antiok that she was still there. He didn't move. Sarah sighed, but the normal class time was long over, so he couldn't really stop her if she tried to leave. She picked up her bag and made to the door. But this incited a reaction.

"Sarah," he said. He was silent again for a moment, but she waited respectfully. "It has come to my attention, while perusing your memories..." he stopped again. He seemed to be trying to make sense of what he had seen and trying to phrase it diplomatically at the same time. "You seem to be under the attention that our current Head Girl is involved in a conspiracy to destroy the school."

Sarah opened her mouth, then closed it again. He had already seen all her evidence. Repeating it would do no good. "This is true," she agreed tentatively.

Antiok sat there for another minute or so. "And you seem to have some fairly compelling evidence, though not any impression what the end motive is." Sarah just nodded that time. "Hmm." He thought for quite a while, fixing his eyes on Sarah. She felt like a hand was brushing the bone at the base of her skull, and knew that he was reading her mind without an incantation once more. She shuddered, but did not try to fight him. This was the only chance she could have at gratification in her theory, and she wasn't going to give it up out of concern for privacy.

"Interesting," mused Antiok. "It is a theory not without merits..." He stroked his chin, looking somewhat sinister. "And were the plan true, it would certainly be devious...and very ambitious...which does seem to be in our dear Orianna's character..."

"Do you believe me then?" asked Sarah, hopeful for the first time in recent memory.

Antiok drew himself up on his desk. "No." Sarah's face fell. How could someone with direct access to all of the evidence in her head still not believe her? "Or rather, not yet. There is an unfortunate phenomenon in Legilimency called Confirmation Bias. It occurs in normal thought and action as well, but the problem is more acute when seeing the facts of the world through another's eyes and thoughts. The theory basically states that when an idea is formed in your head, it is easier to adapt the evidence to fit the theory than to adapt the theory to fit the evidence. For example, it seems a logical step in your mind to connect the wandering chameleon figure at Peregrin's portrait to Orianna, when in reality, there are many other options. Peregrin is Paranoid, when he confused Rory for her sister and accused her of already watching him for years could have been entirely spurious." It was strange to hear him refer to Rory in such an informal way, when he addressed her only as Miss Dursley. It bothered her for a moment, until she realized his only knowledge of her was directly from Sarah's memories, where she was only termed 'Rory'.

"So you think I'm just thinking about it wrong, that I'm leaping to conclusions?" asked Sarah, trying to sound very reasonable. She knew little about Antiok, but he did not seem to be the kind of man to respond to raw emotion.

"That is not the only possibility. You could be delusional. You could be having hallucinations induced by the high powered magic you were exposed too. You could have false memories implanted into your mind."

"Do you think those likely?" asked Sarah. The idea disturbed her, but she knew that these were all legitimate concerns, though, she supposed, she would be thinking that even if she were insane, or remembering false events.

"No, not truly. However, I do not think that these theories merit much concern right now. Any attack on the school with Fiendfyre would almost certainly result in the deaths of the casters, in addition to everyone within. I do not know these witches your memories refer to, but they do not seem the kind to throw away their lives so carelessly."

"So you won't help us?" asked Sarah.

"Not now. Dismissed." She stood for a moment, glaring at him, but he did not even turn his head to investigate. And then, in a burst of fury, Sarah grabbed her bags and stormed to the door.

"Sarah?" asked Antiok. She stopped, but only reluctantly. "I will investigate. Of that you can be sure." It was a small olive branch, but it was better than nothing. She stopped her scowl and ascended the stairs.

The other funny thing about magic withdrawal was a total removal from time. Things that she had long expected seemed to sneak up on her, like Rory's birthday. Rory, of course, insisted that she didn't really care, and Sarah hoped that was true, but knowing Rory, she wondered if she had hurt her feelings. Fortunately, and much to her surprise, Albus remembered, and gave her a bag of Weasley products. It wasn't a very thoughtful gift, Rory wasn't the kind of girl who would enjoy pranks, but it was a gift, and that was what mattered.

A similar situation came when Sarah turned towards the entrance hall, ready to go to Herbology when Albus caught her arm. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Herbology, like always," she replied with some consternation.

"There's no class today. Finals start tomorrow, they gave us today off to study, remember?" Obviously not, thought Sarah, though it did explain some of Rose's behavior last night. Her stomach growled. She had slept in, and thought that they were going to have to miss breakfast. It was welcome news that they would have a chance to eat after all.

It was odd that they would be leaving so soon, thought Sarah as she sat down at the table. The months had seemed to fly by here, she couldn't remember how she had conducted herself before. What did one do during summer vacations? She remembered in a sudden flash of clarity all her Muggle friends who she had left behind. A warm familiar tendril touched her heart, but it was one of nostalgia not longing. Her life had changed, and Albus and Rory were her friends now.

"When are we going to see each other over the summer?" she asked them suddenly. They looked surprised. She had been quieter ever since the incident in Charms, asking a question without provocation had become rare. It annoyed her that this was true, she like how she used to be, before all this odd disease.

"Well you and I are obviously going to see each other whenever our families get together," offered Albus.

"That's not nearly enough," replied Sarah. "And what about Rory?"

Rory blushed. "I don't know, I wouldn't be able get away from my grandmother's anyway, she lives way in the middle of the old wizarding section of London, it'd be hard to get a cab, and..."

"Is your house connected to the Floo Network?" asked Albus, interrupting her.

"Well...yes I suppose, but we don't have any powder, and..."

Albus disrupted her again. "We'll lend you some, just give me your address and I'll have my dad stop by and drop some off." His interruptions and presumption probably would have been rude if he weren't saying such nice things.

"That sounds really..." but Fate seemed to be unwilling to let Rory finish a sentence today

"Potter," came a snide voice from above them.

The three of them turned. Scorpius Malfoy stood above them, though he was alone.

"I thought we weren't going to be seeing you this year," intoned Sarah calmly.

"No, no, it has a nice symmetry," spat Albus. "We have to see the scum the first and last days of the year. Where are your goons?"

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "Detention. And trust me, I'm not seeing you for pleasure alone, Potter. As excited as I am to see the famous Harry Potter's good for nothing..."

"Careful." It was not Albus who said it, but Rory. Her face was colored, her cheeks pale, but with angry red spots. Her hand was creeping towards her wand.

"No need for hostilites. After all, you were the one who requested it, if indirectly. I've got your information on Orianna. What, you didn't think I'd figure out why Goyle was always hanging out with your brother?" he asked Sarah.

Sarah scowled. "Then why'd you still do it?" asked Albus.

"We're even. Your dad saved mine, this is all you're getting."

The three of them exchanged glances. "Fine. Give it to us. What do you know?"

Malfoy stretched, enjoying the temporary advantage he had over them. "Not much. But, probably most importantly, that it's happening tonight."

**I didn't have much time to edit this one, so if you notice any grevious errors, be sure to point them out :P Oh and review! We're getting close!**


	16. Chapter 16

"Tonight?" asked Sarah.

"That's what I said, brat," spat Scorpius.

"Are you sure?" asked Rory.

"Would I be talking to you right now if I wasn't?"

"I don't know, maybe you would," replied Albus harshly. "Get us into a panic while you can, watch us run around like idiots. Seems like the kind of thing you would do."

Scorpius sighed sarcastically. "Of course, despite the countless opportunities I've had to make you three look like the fools you are, I would settle on the last day of the year, when people are too busy studying to even notice."

Albus stared him down. "I'll need more proof than that, before I take your word."

"If you weren't going to trust what I say, why did you ask me in the first place? Besides, Cato was eavesdropping with me, he got caught and is in detention. Ask anyone in my house, or anyone who was in detention last night. They'll confirm."

Albus, Rory, and Sarah glanced at each other darkly. Fred Weasley had been in detention last night, it would be easy enough to confirm, but there were still shadows of doubt playing across their minds. It would have been easier if he had just told Goyle, and he had told Dustin. It would be easier to trust her brother, even if he was only repeating information.

"Fine," said Albus. "Why'd it take you so long?"

Scorpius snorted. It was probably meant to be derisive, but it came across as just a bit disgusting. "You think it's easy to eavesdrop on the most skilled witch in the entire house, probably the entire school, when she also has a private enchanted room and the motivation to conceal everything she does? I'm surprised I got away Scot-free. Fortunately, Cato was generous enough to stick behind and take the blame for me." He laughed evilly. Sarah wondered if he had just bullied him into staying behind and taking the rap, or if he had actually hexed him to force him to stay.

"So what did you hear?" asked Rory. Now that they had determined to at least partially trust him, she was the most eager to hear what he said. She had always been the most determined to undermine Orianna, and her self-control in recent months to give Sarah time to recover was wearing off. She was leaning forward across the table, eager to hear every word.

"Not tons, before her Charms alerted her to us. But there seem to be three people involved." Sarah looked at Albus and nodded. He wouldn't have known that otherwise, his information seemed at least partially valid. "They're all starting in different places, doing unspecified tasks, and then meeting up."

There was silence for a moment. "Helpful," said Albus snidely.

Scorpius scowled. "That's not all. One of them is starting in 'The Forest', one is in 'The Ruin' and one is making their way to 'The Room' after the one in 'The Forest' does her job. They all seem to be meeting up in 'The Room' after, though I'm not sure how. It sounded like this room was inside the school, but only the one from 'The Forest' is using any of the entrances. I don't know how the other is getting there, and you should be grateful even for that."

Albus opened his mouth, but Sarah decided this was time for peace. "We are Malfoy, thank you. It there anything else?"

Malfoy looked almost disappointed that Sarah had stopped Albus from starting a confrontation. "No. That's it. And well...we're even. Just don't ask for it again." And without another word, he stalked off.

The three of them immediately turned to consult. "Tonight? Is there anything we can do to stop her by tonight?" asked Albus.

"We need to get help," replied Sarah quickly. She didn't want to get caught up in this unnecessarily. "Professor Antiok might be willing to help, remember how he saw some of my memories? He'd at least pay attention."

"But would he act quickly enough?" asked Rory. "We don't have lots of time, and I'm not letting her get away with this."

"But what is 'this'? What is she planning? We can't go running off for help with such vague accusations," said Albus.

"The room has to be the Room of Requirement," inferred Sarah. "It's the only room they've shown any interest in, and the way he said it, 'The Room' seemed to be a very specific location."

Rory nodded, but she seemed a bit annoyed. "What does it matter why they're doing it? As long as we know when, and how to stop them, we can piece together everything else after!" As always, Rory's zeal to stop her sister was overstepping her knowledge.

"All I'm saying is that it might be a better idea to figure out what they're doing, so we can tell an adult more specifically what their plan is. It'd be hard to stop them if we didn't even know what they're doing."

"Which ruin do you think they're talking about?" mused Albus. "The Shrieking Shack is kind of a dump, but I don't think I'd call it a ruin, and what would they want there?"

"They could use it to sneak into the school," observed Sarah.

"No, Professor Elihphile knows all about that passage," replied Rory, frustrated.

"There's only one forest around here," observed Albus. "But I don't know what the appeals of the Forbidden Forest are."

"We still haven't figured out what they're doing in the Room of Requirement," added Sarah. "There are easier ways to suicide bomb, and Orianna is not a suicide bomber."

"Do you think that maybe we're wrong about Fiendfyre destroying the school if it gets out?" asked Albus. "Like, maybe they've learned to control it enough to stop it from blowing up the place."

Sarah thought for a moment. That would certainly be a convenient explanation, but it didn't solve the fundamental problem. "Still, what would they want in the room itself? There's nothing there, and though the room is interesting magically, I don't know what they would want in there."

The three of them stared at each other for a few moments. People were beginning to empty out of the hall, off to start studying. It would be suspicious if they stayed, because Sarah really needed the day to study, she was well behind in all of her classes, and the teachers knew it. Trying to encourage them to move their debate outside, Sarah quickly said: "Listen, there isn't much more we can do by ourselves. I say we find Professor Antiok, I think he might sleep in his office, he is nocturnal after all." She got up as she said this, hoping they would follow her example.

Albus rose slowly. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Sure you want to disturb an Auror-killer in his sleep?" he asked.

Sarah bit her lip. "I'm sure that's not true," she said, feeling a bit nervous. "He's certainly not...personable, but I think murder might be a bit far, even for him. It's probably just a rumour." Still, there was a niggling doubt in the back of her mind. There was a dark mass of mind pressing on her brain whenever he used Legilimency on her, there was certainly something black in his past.

Rory was still seated. "So," she asked, her breathing very controlled, but her face getting colored. "You're just going to pass this one off, let someone else deal with it?"

There was a little ball of guilt in Sarah that ached at her words. "I'm sorry, Rory," she explained. "but I can't afford to get caught up in this whole thing again. You've seen what Fiendfyre can do to me. I can't risk that again. Professor Elihphile has been kind enough to let me stay this far."

Rory stood, though it was in anger, not defeat. "She's my sister, I can't just let her..."

"Yes, Rory, yes you can," interrupted Sarah. "She's not your responsibility. You control your own actions. She may be your blood, but she's no more your sister than Professor Dorian." And in an instant, Rory's anger vanished like Fred Weasley at the scene of a prank. It was replaced instantly by an almost overwhelming despair.

"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes downcast. "Just...if I don't rein her in, who will? I know there's nothing I can do but..." Sarah put her hand gently on Rory's shoulder.

"There is something you can do. You can help us, testify to Professor Antiok. If he believes us, we can go straight to Professor Elihphile, with his evidence to back us up. He'd have to listen, and even Brista Fang isn't loony enough to try anything under his nose."

Rory nodded, still sadly but with twinges of hope, and the three of them set off to the dungeons. "I just hope he hasn't completely gone to bed, it's pretty early. We might catch him awake." It was a long way down, and it seemed longer with so many worries running through their heads. Sarah could understand how it was possible to be nocturnal down here. With the constant dim glow of the torchlight, it was easy to imagine it was any time up on the surface. To her, it felt like dusk. Somehow that felt appropriate, with the dark night of madness and evil conniving women about to arrive.

The door seemed heavier than Sarah remembered. It was usually open when she arrived, so it was particularly uninviting when closed. It was heavy, scarred, and overall intimidating. One of the holes in the door was so deep it went all the way through, but there was only black beyond. Sarah knocked nervously.

"You sure about that Auror thing?" asked Albus. "Not that I'm worried or anything," he appended.

Before Sarah could respond, a thin strip of wood poked out from the hole in the door. Maybe it was even carved for that purpose, thought Sarah, before she realized that perhaps she should get out of the way. "_Legilimens!_" came the deep voice from beyond the door. Sarah was almost knocked backwards off her feet with the force of the spell, but it felt like her brain was being pulled forward out of her skull, thoughts streaming in towards the wand like a waterfall.

And it stopped quickly. He had recognized her. With a nasty shudder, Sarah realized that even in his classroom, even in the tests, he had been coddling them. He was a far more accomplished Legilimens than even he would acknowledge. The door opened. He stood there, thankfully still fully dressed.

"Miss Dursley," he said smoothly. "Forgive me for my peccadillo. But you must understand, old habits die hard, and any seeking me in the morning are almost certainly up to no good." Sarah was gasping, she realized. Albus and Rory were holding her up, cowed by the massive, harsh man in front of them.

"It's...okay..." she managed to reply. "Professor, remember what you learned about Orianna?"

A flicker of annoyance flashed over his face, and Rory quailed next to Sarah. He was not a man to annoy. "Yes, I remember, and would prefer to investigate on my own time, not at the whims of a few first-years. Is that all?"

"No!" exclaimed Rory bravely. "I mean...no, professor. We...we..." but she couldn't finish her sentence under his piercing gaze.

"She's putting in place tonight," finished Albus.

He took a long hard look at each of the three of them. Albus and Rory looked very uncomfortable, and Sarah could tell that he was reading their minds. She had become so used to the sensation she hardly even noticed. That was probably a bad thing, she reflected as he gazed into her eyes. It would be nice to know when someone was attacking her.

"Very well," he said suddenly. "You seem to have evidence, though I would ask if it is from a reliable source." The three of them looked at each other nervously.

"Well...not really," admitted Sarah. "But we think that he's telling the truth. And most of his story checks out. His friend got sent to detention for it."

"Ah yes, I wondered why there were such vague charges leveled at young Master Cato..." He paused for a moment of thought. He did that a lot, Sarah was realizing. His words and decisions tended to be quite deliberate. It was a nasty thought if he really had killed that Auror, for it would almost certainly have been premeditated with a personality like his.

"Very well. It seems this investigation must precede my sleep. I suppose I should have expected it, after all, Orianna is only a Hogwarts student for one more week." He turned to them. "The three of you will return to your dormitories and study. If I need additional information I will come to you. Do not think you can help me." He withdrew his wand ominously, and strode past them up the stairs.

"Wait!" exclaimed Rory. He stopped mid-step.

"Yes, Miss Zyther?"

"What are you going to do?" She looked worried, her lip was trembling, and every few seconds she would push her hair back.

He raised an eyebrow. "If you are worried about your sister's safety, you may rest easy. I will not take direct action against her without Professor Elihphile involved. I merely intend to..." Pausing, he glanced at the tip of his wand. "...gather some information."

The three of them waited in silence for a good minute before Albus gathered the courage to follow him up the stairs. They didn't run into him again, and, without even consulting each other, they returned to the Common Room. There was a slightly frantic atmosphere, which didn't help their situation. Fifth-years were the biggest culprits, Sarah counted all but two or three in the room. The library was closed until later because of the special schedule, so Sarah was lucky to find a corner with the rest of the first-years.

Times of stress are often good indicators of character, as Sarah was beginning to notice. Rory performed well when the stress was right in front of her, but when in was a distant threat, she tended to shut down. She just stared listlessly at her notes for the whole morning. Albus was a little better. His determination seemed to come and go. Sometimes his eyes blazed across his notes like he was searching for an antidote to a poison he had just ingested. Other times the energy couldn't be contained that way, and he would spring to his feet and pace around the increasingly crowded room. Invariably, these fits would fade into apathy as he stared out the window towards the Forbidden Forest. It was easy to see what he was thinking about then. Sarah wondered if either Brista or Claire was already in there, preparing their devious plan.

But they were not the only ones having a hard time studying. Rose seemed to be shutting down, convinced of her total inadequacy in all things academic. She looked to be on the verge of tears the whole day, desperate to study, but so nervous that she couldn't do so. Occasionally Marcus Westfold would give her an extremely awkward pat on the back, some kind of primitive reassurance, then return to his silent vigil. Rose would be at least slightly more composed after these episodes, and would return with moderate success to her studying. Marcus on the other hand, did nothing but stare at the page for what seemed like hours on end. If she did not see the intensity in his glare and the occasional turn of the page, she would assume he wasn't even trying.

His sister had a very different approach. She seemed to be trusting homeopathic medicine of some kind, which surprised Sarah. Her magnetic bracelets jingled on her arms as she meditated with a carefree smile. When there was real magic, why would people still resort to such Muggle superstition? Anything that would actually be beneficial was sure to be banned in the exam halls. But the placebo effect was a powerful one, so Sarah didn't say a word.

Carter Cornwall was most like Marcus in his studying, though he had his eyes closed most of the time. He looked very peaceful, but Sarah could tell that his brain was working hard, judging by the slight tremors in his lips as he formed words that he was repeating endlessly in his brain. He probably had the best strategy out of any of them, thought Sarah, as she looked down and realized that her Transfiguration book was not even open.

Well, her fellow students had been a good distraction while they lasted. For her, it was not a matter of learning the material, it was about overcoming her own defeatist attitude. Her marks had been awful for the last few months, and now that she had finally regained the ability and motivation to focus, she realized that she was several months behind. Her friends and the more sympathetic teachers had assured her that first-year marks didn't matter in the long run, but if that was so, why would she force herself to study, when her body was just demanding sleep?

Victoire entered the room like a dignitary and announced that the library was open. Sarah found herself swept up in the torrent rushing to get down there. There were practice rooms for spells down there, in addition to a plethora of information about every topic taught in the school. Besides, she reasoned, she wasn't getting any work done up here, might as well stay with her friends.

The library wasn't much better. True, it was bigger and better stocked than the Common Room, but it was also shared between all four houses. There was just something safe and friendly about the Gryffindors that wasn't present when all the houses were there. Not that she held anything against any of them, she liked seeing her brother so engrossed in his studying that it took her four repetitions of his name to get his attention, but they weren't her group. The library turned out to be worse in terms of productivity in the long run, because there were so many more distractions. She was certain she wouldn't have been interested in the long history of the evolution of goblin humor on an ordinary day, but today, it seemed simply fascinating.

After lunch, there were a few minutes she devoted to intense studying, but Albus and Rory had both decided that they were finished, so for the remainder of the afternoon, the three of them just talked about anything but the elephant in the room. After all, they were in a fairly public place, spreading rumours about Orianna might not recommend them to some of the Slytherin.

On a short trip to the bathroom, the added privacy allowed Rory to whisper, "Do you think that Professor Antiok has stopped them, or delayed them?"

Glancing around, Sarah replied, "I don't know. If anyone can do it he can, and we haven't heard anything. That's got to be a good sign." Rory looked a little more encouraged, and, feeling bold, Sarah threw her a bone. "But if he fails, the three of us can go out and stop her, right?" Rory brightened instantly, and at the same time, her expression hardened.

"Exactly." It was risky, agreeing to intervene personally, especially considering her history with Fiendfyre, but Sarah had confidence in Antiok's abilities, and if he didn't succeed, there was a good chance the entire school would blow up and it wouldn't really matter in the long run.

Before they knew it, the sun was beginning to kiss the edges of the hills near Hogwarts, indicating that it was time to return everything to the Common Room before dinner. It hadn't been a very productive day overall, but at least they had Professor Antiok fully devoted to the case of the Fiendfyres.

In the crowded hallway, the three of them risked a bit more conversation. "Think Antiok stopped them?" murmured Albus.

"Not yet, but in a couple more hours, that's basically the only explanation," replied Sarah. "After all, Scorpius said it was today, not tonight. I don't know if that's a technicality they're observing, but it would make me feel a lot better."

Rory nodded. "It's weird not to be involved though. To have all our investigations up to this point and then just...turn it all over to someone else? I don't know, it's kind of anti-climactic."

"Yeah," agreed Albus. "We did all the boring research and theory stuff, we should get to do the fun burst in and beat up the baddies thing too, right?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "To be honest, I'm glad successfully casting a few simply Movement Charms is all I'm worried about now. Dueling three trained witches? I'll leave that to Antiok."

Albus shrugged. "If you want to miss out on the best part, the fun part, fine, go ahead." He looked oddly stuck-up about the idea, and Sarah laughed. Albus looked affronted at the idea. "Sarah, I'm a Potter. Adventure is what we live for!"

"And lovely women," added James as he flitted past. Even Rory had to smile for that.

"Acually, I'm relieved too," she admitted. "I wanted to deal with Orianna myself, but I've been losing sleep over the idea of even confronting her verbally, let alone in a duel."

Albus gave a long sigh. "I guess peace and quiet is alright..." he admitted.

"Amen. I just want to know how long we can keep this trend up," said Sarah. "I personally vote for..." but she was interrupted by a huge, echoing voice booming through the halls of the school, drowning out all other conversation.

"ALL STUDENTS WILL RETURN NOW TO THEIR DORMITORIES. ANY STUDENT CAUGHT OUTSIDE WILL BE SUBJECT TO SEVERE AND PERMANENT PENALTIES." Someone shrieked, and murmuring started up quickly as the voice paused.

"Professor Elihphile," said Sarah, for it was his voice. The voice continued, somewhat quieter.

"Prefects are responsible for the members of their house. All teachers report to the Entrance Hall."

"What do you think is going on?" asked James sidling up to them. But there was an icy pit of fear in Sarah's stomach as she looked to Albus and Rory.

Almost as an afterthought, the voice added, "Any seventh-years who are of age and willing to risk their lives in defense of the school, after reporting to their Common Rooms, may join the teachers at the Forbidden Forest."

Of course, there was immediately a crush at every window in the hall as people tried to see what was going on. Using James's slippery technique for moving though crowds, Sarah quickly forced her way to one of them as well, holding Rory's hand and pulling her along.

"We're being attacked!" shouted someone. As Sarah reached the window, she saw why they thought that. Hordes of giant spiders, tiny tree like creatures Sarah didn't recognize, stampeding out into the flat indent near the forest.

"No," Sarah murmured to Rory. "They're not attacking." Their whole formation was too disorganized, the cries were of fear, not anger. "They're fleeing." And as if to confirm her theory, from the deep heart of the forest, a column of Fiendfyre nearly five stories high burst from the trees.


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry for the two weeks without updates. I've got finals and a trip back home and much stress besides. I did get to see my wonderful girlfriend though, and I'm sure she's too busy to be reading this, but she's totally awesome! I'll try to get an update next week, though I won't promise anything. Cross-continental flight and finals don't make for a very productive writer. The week after that I'll definitely have something.**

Sarah tried to find Rory and Albus and discuss, but before she could, she heard two loud bangs. Victoire and Pierce, the prefects with the group had sent them off to calm the mobs. "Everyone! To the Common Room!" A wave of muttering swept over the crowd, but Victoire pointed her wand in the air and shook it, issuing dozens of bangs, each one getting louder and louder. Sarah covered her ears, and wasn't alone. "MOVE!" she yelled, looking frenzied. Even the lackadaisical Pierce looked grim and serious.

Sarah was swept up in the currents of the crowd and pulled away from Albus and Rory, but she determined to find them immediately when they got back to the Common Room. As they streamed through the hall, Sarah couldn't help but notice the dual glow of the Fiendfyre and the sunset, blending together in what could almost be symphonic, if Sarah didn't know the implications. By the time they reached the tower, Sarah could see out of the window that there tiny figures racing around on the grounds, dodging the last few giant spiders and creatures fleeing the forest. No one had gone in yet, and Sarah couldn't blame them. The fire was growing higher and larger every second; it was leaping above the tops of the trees, sending off explosions like fireworks and forming into more and more terrifying creatures.

But they had to get in there soon. If even one spark of that fire made its way onto the actual grounds, picked up a magical trace leading back to the main school...well it would be like a fuse leading to a box of dynamite.

There was a halt once they reached the tower. The Fat Lady served as a choke point that only a student or two could go through at a time, so Sarah had time to find Albus and Rory. She quickly located them in the midst of other first-years.

"Sarah!" exclaimed Rory as they faced each other. There was a fight in her eyes. "This is no time to run to other people! We need to do this ourselves!" She spoke emphatically, but her lip was trembling, and she pushed her hair back when she finished. She almost winced as Sarah opened her mouth.

"I agree."

"You do?" asked Albus, more surprised than she would like.

"Yes. We've done all we can to warn people. It's up to us. I wasn't lying, when I said I'd help you if it came to this, Rory."

The fear seemed to disappear from Rory's eyes, somewhat funny, considering she was about to be going into what was probably the most dangerous situation in her life. But, reflected Sarah, Rory did seem to be the kind of girl more afraid of rejection from her friends than facing mortal terror with her friends there.

"The problem is going to be getting past Victoire," said Sarah.

"I've got the cloak," offered Albus. "I think my dad would be okay with me using it here."

"It'll help, certainly, but it won't get the door open. No matter how many other things to worry about there are, she'd notice the portrait opening for no reason."

"So what we need is a distraction!" exclaimed Rory.

"Basically, though even if we get past there, I don't know where we'd be going."

"The Room of Requirement, obviously," said Albus. "We know that's where they're meeting, hopefully we can stop them before they open it."

"And if we can't, it won't really matter, we'll all be dead anyway," giggled Rory nervously. Sarah raised an eyebrow, but it was true. Somehow consequences and plans didn't seem to matter once life was on the line.

"Okay, so we get past Victoire, head down to the Room of Requirement and..."

"What will you do when you're there?" asked a voice behind Sarah. Sarah clenched her muscles as if preparing for a blow. She turned and saw Rose Weasley, hands on her hips, standing behind her. The Westfolds and Carter were there too, looking very determined.

"We've had enough of this secrecy. You three have been up to something all year and it has something to do with these fires. What do you know that the teachers could use?"

The three of them looked among themselves, trying to determine if they were trustworthy. But, in that recklessness that comes with imminent death, Sarah decided it could do no harm. "Nothing," replied Sarah. "At least, nothing we can get to them in time. I've already told some stuff to Professor Elihphile and Professor Antiok, but they're too busy to do anything. We have to do it ourselves."

Rose looked slightly infuriated at the suggestion that students could protect the schools when teachers couldn't. "From what?" she asked huffily. "The Fiendfyre is out there, not in here. What do you think you three can do?" Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but Victoire was ushering them all through the portal.

"I'll give you the quick version," she offered as they stepped to the other side. "Rory's older sister Orianna has allied herself with the same two witches who kidnapped my family when I was young, and it's the three of them who have been starting the fires all over the country. They're all trying to get into the Room of Requirement, which is still full of Fiendfyre from the Second War with Voldemort. If we don't stop them, they'll open it up and blow up the whole school." Rose paled a little.

"D...do you have evidence?" she asked.

"Enough," replied Rory stonily.

Rose took a deep breath. "Well...we'll help you then."

"I...You'll what?"

Rose looked at her friends for confirmation. "We overheard you saying that you needed a distraction. I think we can provide that, if Carter and Marcus will help out. It might be a little dangerous, but it'll certainly be dramatic enough to distract Victoire." A thin smile was appearing on her face.

"You'd do that for us?" asked Rory.

Carter and Marcus looked at each other. "Yeah," said Carter. "Why wouldn't we?"

And, in perhaps the first words he had ever spoken directly to any of them, Marcus added, "We're friends." It probably would have been very touching if not for imminent death and destruction.

"Albus," said Rose, quickly resuming control. "Get your dad's cloak. The three of you find a place to get underneath it and wait near the door. You'll know when the distraction is ready." Nervous, Sarah and Rory headed to a corner obscured by a desk while Albus sprinted up the stairs.

"I thought she was going to try to stop us," confided Rory. "Doesn't her mum work in law?"

"Yeah, and her Dad is a Weasley," replied Sarah. She picked up an old book lying on the desk so that she could plausibly be studying, but everyone was already on the other side of the room, fighting for space at the windows. Even though she couldn't see out the windows, Sarah could tell how strong the Fiendfyre was by the occasional flares of light, and the shrieking of girls. Still, Victoire was at her post, faithfully guarding the door.

"Here," whispered Albus. Rory jumped, she still hadn't gotten used to invisibility. The two of them slipped under with ease, and no one noticed over the sights and sounds of the burning forest. An explosion shook the school, maybe the Fiendfyre had come across a patch of residual magic traces. Those would only be increasing as it got closer to the school.

"What distraction could possibly more interesting than that?" asked Albus.

Teddy Lupin pushed open the portrait, his hair a sombre gray. He and Victoire exchanged a few quiet words, then he clumsily brushed his lips against her cheek. If it weren't for the circumstances, Sarah was sure that simple act would be the talk of the house for weeks, most people hadn't seen the two of them snogging at Platform 9 and ¾. Holding her hands delicately, Teddy turned to leave, but was interrupted.

"Victoire!" screamed Cassandra over the babbling crowd. She looked nearly hysterical. "Marcus...Marcus was trying to get a better view from one of the upstairs windows..." she managed to gasp. It was very well put on. "And he...he...leaned too far and fell out!"

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Victoire, the French in her exploding forth.

"He's hanging on but you have to...have to...hurry!" But it was unnecessary, Teddy and Victoire were already sprinting up the stairs.

Rory tried to catch Cassandra's gaze, to ask if Marcus was really hanging out of the window or if they were simply lying, before she realized that she was invisible and Cassandra would never see her. "Did he really...Is he really..."

"I don't know," replied Sarah, "But we have to...hold on..." Rose and Carter were leaning out of one of the less occupied windows, wands pointed straight up to the story above them. "Brilliant," she breathed. "They're levitating him out of the window."

"Come on," hissed Albus. "We've got to go before Victoire gets back down here!" Sarah nodded and the three of the slunk across the room and out the portrait. For a moment, Sarah was worried that the Fat Lady would raise the alarm as they left, but she was too busy receiving messages from all over the school, trying to get word directly from a portrait with a window view. There were only a few of those in this part of the school, and all of them were crammed far past capacity.

And yet, despite the cacophony of screaming portraits, the school seemed oddly quiet, empty, and unearthly. The noise of the portraits seemed distant and muted, like a old recording when compared with the vibrant chatter of excited students. It was almost better at night, when it was closer to silence. Then, each tiny sound was important. Now, it seemed like everything was drowned out in a sea of massless noise. Sarah glanced at Rory and Albus, and could tell they were thinking along the same lines by their uneasy expressions.

"Come on," she said. "To the Room of Requirement?" Albus nodded, and Rory managed to twitch her stiff neck, which Sarah took as confirmation.

With the buzz of meaningless chatter surrounding them, it was hard to plan, or think, or theorize, and the three of them passed the walk in silence, though they took it at an awkward canter, trying to stay under the cloak while moving as fast as possible. The noise that surrounded them seemed to hem in her thoughts, keeping her focused only on each coming step, and even then, that was sometimes too much. She stumbled once or twice, and nearly stepped on a trick stair. That would have been disastrous. She wondered if Albus and Rory were having the same trouble focusing, but she didn't bother to ask. Everyone reacted to danger differently, and she was sure to see those reactions soon enough.

"Not to be a downer or anything," ventured Sarah, "But what are we actually going to do when we get there? I mean, the school is still standing, so they haven't opened it, which means they're not there yet, right?"

"Yeah," agreed Albus. "We'll just have to wait for them and then...surprise them I guess. That's about the only advantage we have."

"Then we'll just have to be smart with it," said Rory through gritted teeth. "Sarah, we all know the kind of magic you can pull out of your hat, do you think you could really let it all loose here?"

Sarah frowned. She might be able to, she hadn't really tried before. Somehow, her teachers had always been more interested in preventing rampant destruction than encouraging it. But, tonight did seem to be a night of firsts. "Maybe..." said Sarah as they rounded the corner to the staircase descending into Peregrine's corridor.

"Hey!" exclaimed Albus. "I just remembered something! We have the gargoyles on our side! They're going to have to beat them up before they can get in!"

"Unless they're invisible," Sarah reminded him.

"No, Peregrine's portrait must be covering the door, it's too low on the wall to have a door below it. If they're invisible, they'd have to move the entire picture, and that would cause some disruption when the gargoyles figured out what was happening."

"So all we really need is a well placed spell or two from under the cloak to help the gargoyles beat up..." But Albus stopped as they entered Peregrine's hall. Chunks of rubble were strewn all the way across the floor like scattered seeds, most of them barely larger than a pebble, but some the size of Sarah's head. It was from the patterns on these big pieces that the three of them simultaneously inferred:

"The gargoyles," breathed Rory.

"Impossible," said Albus, trying to ignore the evidence in front of his face. "They pieces aren't big enough, there was more to them than these chunks of stone." He was right, but Sarah already saw where the rest had gone. Bending down, she scooped almost a handful of sand off the normally clean floor and let it run slowly through her fingers. Albus noticed what she was doing, and gulped.

"Why haven't we blown up?" asked Rory. "If they've already beaten the gargoyles..."

"Only one way to find out," replied Sarah before Rory could finish her thought, and she pressed forward. Albus didn't move quickly enough, and the cloak slipped over his head.

"Hey!" he exclaimed as he stumbled. "Wait for me!"

Sarah glanced at Rory. "I guess there's no need for this anymore. I'm a little more worried about death than being caught." Rory laughed nervously and stepped out as well. Sarah pulled the cloak off and handed it to Albus.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Sarah realized he hadn't heard them under the cloak.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she explained. "Let's just go."

The wall where Peregrine once hung was now blank, just a flat stretch of stone. The remains of his portrait were on the ground, no more than a large gold frame and shreds of a canvas. Rory grabbed Sarah's hand for support as she saw it. "You...you don't suppose he's under all that?" Sarah asked. "Torn to pieces?"

They were silent for a second. "Nah," said Albus finally, though it was not as dismissive as he probably intended it to sound. "Portraits can leave their frames any time they want. Even if they're ripped up and everything."

Rory shuddered and squeezed Sarah's hand, but there was a stony look in her eyes. "Well?" asked Sarah. "Now what?" There was a dull beat in her head that was bringing back painful memories. She should have stayed away from here. She wasn't ready to confront the full force of Fiendfyre. Her heart quailed and everything she had ever learned was telling her to turn tail and run, but Albus had a silly grin on his face, the kind that James got right before cracking a great joke or pulling out a secret play in Quidditch.

"We open the room," he laughed.

"NO!" yelled Sarah. "What if it blows up the school? Rory?"

But Rory stayed silent, almost robotic.

"Only one way to find out," replied Albus. Sarah could tell he was already thinking the words that would open the room, for thin lines began to appear on the wall, like the light streaks of a pencil on a sketch pad. Sarah reached into her robes for her wand. Noticing her movement, Rory and Albus did the same as the wall began to discolor, like a cloth placed on a puddle. A large brass ring began to form from the door, seeping out of the wall into a heavy circle parallel to the floor.

"So do you think we just pull on that?" Sarah asked. "Because that would not be a very dramatic death, and I think that's the least we can ask for right now," she started, her voice getting very high. "After all..." but before she could finish, the ring filled in completely, and fell to the door like a knocker. It slammed against the wood with a hollow thud, and the doors burst open.

For a second, Sarah thought she had already died, because all she could see was pure white blasting and raging all around her. She began to reconsider when she saw the floor was still hard stone, and monstrous shapes forming in the pure, blinding whiteness. The three of them were surrounded by flames of pure white Fiendfyre

Sarah suddenly felt very calm. The beat in her head was stronger than ever, but with the ease of flicking a switch, Sarah focused on the floor in front of her and it faded to nothing. Occlumency had been worth it after all. Without the interference of the beat, Sarah could hear the noise that the white flames surrounding her produced. It was almost like the roaring of wind, but magnified a hundred times.

"And you thought we would die!" yelled Albus above the cacophony.

"Are you complaining?" asked Sarah. Instinctively, the three of them formed a triangle with their backs pressed together, wands outstretched against the fire. But the flames were not closing in, only flaring up and dying back down.

A huge flare shot up on the side opposite the door, and the three of them skittered back awkwardly, still staying in triangle formation. The same side flared again, finger like tendrils of flame darting out and pushing them back. Fortunately, the fire on the side of the door seemed to recede at the same rate that the fire behind them grew.

"Wait!" exclaimed Sarah, coming to an unpleasant realization. "It's shepherding us into the room, don't go in!"

"Do we have a choice?" asked Albus. "_Nox!_" he yelled. The fire wavered a bit, but nothing else. Another flare pushed them to the threshold, another forced them to take their first steps into the massive room. It looked no different from the outside, considering they were surrounded on all sides by blinding white flames, but the ceiling inside seemed never to end, reaching up for miles. The flames reached corresponding heights, so the the roof was no more than a black dot at the end of a white tunnel. An interesting reversal, thought Sarah ironically. There was another flare, the three of them took another step, and the door slammed shut, echoing around the room like they were on top of a mountain. The room must be massive, far larger than the real space restrictions of the school would allow.

"Ok," said Sarah to herself, still feeling remarkably calm and observant. "Don't get separated!" she yelled to the others. "That has to be our first priority! Maybe together we can..." but from the flames, Sarah heard a few faint incantations, nearly drowned out by the sound of the fire.

"_Stupefy!_"

With a shriek, Sarah dove to the ground, pushing Albus and Rory out of the way of the jets of red light that shot from the fire, whizzing over their heads. Sarah tried to get back to the others as quickly as possible, but that second of separation was enough, and a wall of scorching, blinding flame leaped up in front of her, cutting her off from the other two. It rushed angrily at her face and she scrambled back, rolling over and jumping to her feet. The fire pushed her back, keeping her halfway between a fast walk and a jog. It was slightly humiliating, but the fire behind her was receding as surely as her father's hairline, so there was nothing she could do but follow it.

The advancing wall of flame stopped so suddenly that Sarah stumbled backwards and fell. Getting to her feet, she wondered where Albus and Rory were. If they had all been taken in different directions, they'd probably be a few hundred feet away in either direction now. Sarah tried to scratch her head in thought, but just ended up poking herself in the ear with her wand. She had forgotten she was even holding it. It was better to get poked though than to have dropped it somewhere in the flames. At least she had some kind of weapon.

Sarah turned, looking for some kind of escape from the flames. If the ceiling weren't so impossibly high, she might have been able to levitate herself, but she wasn't even sure she could see it, and there was no guarantee the fire didn't go all the way up to it.

As she turned, a figure stepped out from the flames, completely unscathed. She looked like Orianna, but Sarah knew that didn't mean much when there was Polyjuice Potion involved.

"So," she asked nonchalantly. She was impressed with how calm she sounded. "Which one are you?"

The girl wearing Orianna's form grinned, but her hour of transformation was already up. Her hair was darkening and inflating from Orianna's straight blonde locks. A manic grin was spreading on her face, and there was an odd jerking motion of her head, like a tic. Madness flashed in her eyes, and even before she had transformed completely, Sarah recognized her.

"Ah," she said, a sinking feeling in her chest. "Brista."


	18. Chapter 18

"Clever girl," cooed Brista. "Figured out, did you?"

"It wasn't terribly difficult," replied Sarah, her heart hammering in her chest like the beat of the Fiendfyre used to do in her mind. But Brista hadn't killed her yet, and if she could just keep her talking, maybe she wouldn't give her the occasion to use he wand, which she held against her leg.

"No, subtlety is not my strong suit," admitted Brista with a leering grin. She was confessing a fault, but her face was shaped as if she were gloating. "And you always did seem a clever one."

"Why thank you," replied Sarah civilly. Her wand was almost slipping, her hands were so sweaty, and she was conscious of her shallow breathing. And yet, despite all these physical indicators of fear and stress, Sarah felt removed and calm, like she was only having another debate with James, or answering one of Professor Orgill's trickier questions. "So," she asked, still stalling, "I was under the impression Fiendfyre loose in the school would blow the whole place up, but I seem to be mistaken."

"Indeed," replied Brista, who began to slowly sidestep, circling Sarah like a vulture. Sarah circled too, until she quickly realized that Brista was trying to disorient her. She didn't know how big the room was, if she started in the wrong direction, she might never get out. Assuming she could get through all the Fiendfyre, that is. She quickly made a mental note of her original position. "Not one to monologue," explained Brista. "But today I have been requested to explain myself, and give you chance at surrender before I kill you."

"Who requested it?" asked Sarah. "Was it Claire?" Brista didn't know that Orianna had let the leader's name slip a few weeks ago, and Sarah was hoping it would disturb Brista enough for her to reveal something or let down her guard. Anything would be better than right now.

"My my," replied Brista, her smile widening. It was much larger than a normal person's smile could have been, stretching her face and cheeks like a soft clay statue. "You are clever one. It was Claire. She thinks you are potentially valuable, and interesting. Yes to last part, but doesn't merit your continued existence..."

Sarah brushed a little bit of lint out of her pocket as she reached her initial position, so she would always know which direction was out. Brista's wand tip twitched dangerously as Sarah's hand moved, but it was still pointed at the floor. "So," said Sarah. "You said you were going to explain things. Start whenever you're ready. Why's the school still standing?" Brista grinned for a few moments of silence, a few moments just to show Sarah she was still in charge.

"It stands because we are not fools, nor cowards. We three arrested the spread of Fiendfyre before it could ignite the school."

"Impressive," admitted Sarah. She had seen enough Fiendfyre to know how hard that would be.

"Not easy, but nothing can stand in our way for long. We practiced for years on fires of our own creation."

"Hence the fires all over the country."

"Exactly." Her smile was too malicious for that to have been the only motive though, Sarah decided. The simple pleasure of wreaking havoc and terrorizing the country would have been reason enough.

"Years, though?" asked Sarah. "I've only started hearing about all of these in the last eight months or so."

"Yes," hissed Brista, "We weren't ready to start toying with the bigger fires. The interesting thing about Fiendfyre is that, unlike most magic, it strengthens with age, fermenting and purifying, becoming far more dangerous and powerful."

"Hence the white flames," replied Sarah. She was having a hard time still worrying about Albus and Rory, and escape, when the answers to all of her questions were staring her in the face, but she forced her brain to multitask.

"You prove your wits. It is true, most Fiendfyre is red, like normal flames, but for intensity and magical source. But this Fiendfyre, growing unchecked for years..." She paused, seeming to drink in the flames that surrounded her. "It is a beautiful thing, is it not?"

Sarah took a sidelong glance at the fire, trying not to take her eyes of Brista. "We might have to agree to disagree on that one."

Brista threw back her head and laughed just once, though it echoed around the massive room like there was a chorus of laughter. "Young one, if you so narrowly define your standards of beauty to things that are great and good as well as pure and sublime, you will find very little in the world worth savoring."

"And doesn't that make it all the more glorious?" asked Sarah with a cocked eyebrow.

Brista too, cocked an eyebrow, and Sarah had a strange moment where she imagined it was James instead of Brista involved in this verbal duel. Their interaction was not fundamentally different, she theorized, just the person underneath the facade of words.

"Perhaps," admitted Brista. "But there is practicality beyond the aesthetic."

"How so?" asked Sarah, glancing up at the ceiling. She wondered if it was there at all.

"When we practiced with this great, indomitable magic, we were not learning to tame it alone, we were also..." she paused for a moment. "Immersing ourselves in it. Yes, slowly at first, but surely, until it could no longer harm us. Fiendfyre flows through our veins as surely as blood now, and it will not harm us. You too, have felt this?"

For the first time, Sarah was nervous. It was true, she remembered. Those nights where she sat against Peregrine's wall, feeling like she was absorbing it into her very bloodstream, or the dreams of sucking the fire from the massive room into her arms...yes, she had felt it, but would admitting it give Brista leverage? Her silence had already answered for her. "Yes," she admitted. "And I loathed it." Not strictly true, for she didn't at the time, though she did now.

"An unfortunate perspective. You could have gained much. Already, the magic flowing through your blood has made you unusually powerful. You know this, do you not?" And suddenly, Sarah's erratic performance in Charms all year made sense. With the unstoppable power of Fiendfyre flowing through her veins, it was no wonder she could not control even the simplest of spells.

"Yes," hissed Brista, soft and low. "You know, I can see it in your eyes. Why do you insist on shackling your magic with incantation and wandwork, instead of letting it flow out like pure water?" She wasn't making as much sense anymore, which worried Sarah. She had seemed so sane until now, as she reached out her arms to the fire...

But the fire was writhing towards her, sending off long tendrils of flame that curled up her arms like snakes, wrapped around her as sensuously as silk scarves, draping themselves across her body like inanimate objects, instead of the embodiment of magic and energy. Brista let out a long sigh and relinquished the shining beams, though even as they left her, she glowed with an empyrean light.

"Do you see now? We have immunized ourselves against it. It obeys our every whim."

"But why?" asked Sarah. "As a weapon? It seems like that would have an unacceptable collateral cost."

But Brista just smiled wickedly. "True. As you have divined, it is an unwise choice of weapons." But she was making no motions to explain. Instead, she was gripping her wand tighter, and stepping more carefully, more lightly. Her head was ticking to one side like an off-kilter pendulum. One of her hands was snaking beneath her robes, searching for something Sarah did not want to see. She realized she hadn't been working on an escape plan; she had been so entranced.

"Why the attack on Hogsmeade though?" she asked, stalling for time. "That seems like it created a lot of unnecessary attention, and you weren't really practicing controlling the magic, you were out of there as soon as you started."

"My my, you do spot all the details," purred Brista. She no longer seemed like she was about to hex Sarah. "No, we needed to purge Hogsmeade for different reasons. Even with all of our practice, the three of us were...nervous, about our prospects of successfully controlling such an immeasurable mass of Fiendfyre as was contained in this room; for as I have already said, in the absence of a wizard to command the room, it bent to the simple will of the fire."

And suddenly Sarah knew what to do.

The room itself was the key. Brista and the others weren't using it, they were only interested in the fire, and she admitted that the will of the fire was weak and abstract. Sarah knew that she could command the room from the inside as well as the outside, if her will was more focused than that of the fire. But she had to test her theory, before she put all her eggs in one basket.

_"I need the stone behind Brista to turn blue," _she thought. _"I need it blue. I need it blue."_ It seemed to remain gray for a split second, until she blinked, and refocused her eyes. It was a dark, dusky blue, exactly the color she had been imagining. It wouldn't stand out if Brista looked at it, but just in case, Sarah changed it back.

Sarah's mind was now racing, flooded with possibilities that were ruled impossible as soon as they entered her thoughts. "So," continued Brista, "We decided to take precautions." Sarah was almost surprised she was still talking about the attack on Hogsmeade, her mind had leaped so far forward. "There are still two entrances to this room. One entrance is main one, and has problems, to which I allude. The other in the Hog's Head Inn, magically sealed by Aberforth. Though all physical traces of it had vanished, the magical signature remained, and, with a little manipulation, Claire opened it back up. Of course, if she had been fighting against Aberforth's attempts to mask and seal off the magic as well, even she might have failed. So we scrubbed clean all the magical traces from Hogsmeade."

Sarah was barely paying attention. What if she dropped a huge stone on her? Would that work? It was within the room's power to do, the question is whether or not Brista would be able to react quickly enough to save herself. If she did, the game would be up. Sarah knew that Brista, a mad and fully accomplished witch had a stronger will than she did, and the room would obey her over Sarah. No, the only thing she could count on was the element of surprise.

"How was the passage still there if you scrubbed all of the traces?" asked Sarah, scrambling for time. Sarah could think of a few things that might kill Brista, but she didn't want her to die, and there was no guarantee that without her, the Fiendfyre wouldn't run wild and consume Sarah.

"You'd be surprised how precise we can be if we want," replied Brista. "I know it seems like rampant destruction...but it's more pointed than you might think. It was a fairly simple matter to target only Aberforth's enchantments. Coincidentally, that's also the method we used to scrub the area around the entrance to the Room of Requirement."

"So that's what you were doing each night."

"Exactly. Though I won't say that the addiction we have all developed to the power was not a factor." Sarah noticed that she was included in the "all", but chose not to respond.

"That must have been hard. Keeping an addiction up, I mean."

"Very, as I'm sure you would agree."

Sarah struck upon an idea. It was a terrible, risky, and not very creative, but it was the best she could do on a time budget. Besides, it might work, which was better than most of the things running through her head. She concentrated for a moment, and in a moment, she could feel the floor moving, slowly, stealthily, but surely. Too subtly for Brista to notice, except for the Fiendfyre was now leaping more wildly, as if trying to catch up to the slowly rising platform of stone that Brista and she now stood upon.

Sarah tried to think of something to distract Brista. She needed to keep her mind elsewhere if her plan was going to work. But her mind was blank, as if it had decided that coming up with her stupid little plan was enough work for the day. "So...um...how did you..."

Brista supplied the distraction for her. "You would consider yourself close to Harry Potter, almost like an uncle, would you not?"

Sarah was a little affronted. "Well...yeah, I mean, isn't that why you kidnapped me?"

Brista laughed. "Oh yes, right. Sometimes I forget my antics." Sarah wasn't sure kidnapping, torture and attempted murder could be classified as "antics", but she decided to let Brista finish.

"And yet, even with your proximity to the fall of the Dark Lord, you still never wondered about Fiendfyre?"

"Why should I?" asked Sarah, trying to keep her eyes from darting to the leaping fires around her. They way they moved was too erratic. They were a dead giveaway that the two of them were rising, and yet they were also the only thing that kept Brista from seeing the rest of the room, and realizing just how high up they were. Sarah didn't really know that either, as it was hard to judge distance.

"Seems to me that one seventh of the Dark Lord's soul is fairly important reason. Did you never wonder why there were only two things that could destroy a Horcrux? Basilisk venom, and Fiendfyre."

Sarah opened her mouth, but closed it quickly. She had been about to say that goblin silver could do it too, until she remembered that only the Sword of Gryffindor could, and only because it had been impregnated with the venom.

"Exactly," said Brista. She hadn't read Sarah's mind though, Occlumency had taught her to recognize attacks. It must have been evident in her body language.

"So, what is the connection?" asked Sarah.

"Wouldn't you like to know? Though I bet you can figure at least part of it out yourself."

Sarah thought for a moment. "Well...they both seem to come from dark sources..."

Brista shrugged. "Traditionally seen as dark magic, yes, similarity, though that classification hardly mean much."

Sarah snorted. "That's a nice excuse."

"Call it what you will. The three of us will change the world."

"Not if I can stop it."

It was Brista's turn to snort. "You don't know what you're fighting."

"Care to inform me?" Sarah shot back.

Brista considered it for a moment. So she was still holding back secrets, things she didn't want to tell Sarah. "Fine," she replied. "You're fighting true magic. Pure magic. Or, as some like to call it, High Magic." The fire around them shuddered at the mention of its name. "Magic unfettered by incantation, without the shackles of wandwork. Unadulterated."

"I thought Fiendfyre had an incantation."

"True, technically. More like an anti-incantation. Releases the magic instead of binding it. Feeds on the magic around it. Destroy the last things binding it. Requires a diet of magic and magical traces to survive. And that is what this room has been feeding it."

"And why are you interested in it? Or in High Magic in general? Both types seem pretty rare to me."

Brista's grin widened. It was as broad as if it had been painted on. "Have to take a more...personal interest to find that out."

"So, join you, basically?"

"Perhaps."

Sarah pretended to consider her offer. "No. No, I don't think that'll work."

"And why not?" Sarah had to keep her occupied just a moment, longer, and then she'd make her move.

"You see, I really try to keep myself away from evil. Call it a silly old prejudice, but hey, we've all got to have one, right?"

"Evil is a strong term. A matter of definitions..."

"Redefinition of morality always seems to help those on the wrong side of the line," replied Sarah, cutting her off. "And besides. It's not about how close to the line you can justify treading. It's about how far away you can stay."

"An admirable philosophy. A bit sheltered."

"I think it's hardly fair calling me sheltered. I am surrounded by Fiendfyre, facing three insane witches. You might say I'm sheltering everyone else."

Brista shrugged. "Different kinds of sheltered. None of this matters now. Sooner or later, you will discover what we are doing, what we plan to do, and you will regret not having joined us while you could. Last opportunity here."

"I'll regret it? So I'll be alive to see your victory?"

"Against my wishes. But yes, you will live. As fellow being branded with High Magic, you are too interesting to kill outright. In Claire's opinion. Plus, doesn't like to get hands dirty, and won't kill except with magic." Brista's eyes glittered, and Sarah noticed that there was another sheath in the belt under her robes, though the knife it normally held was missing. Sarah shuddered to think where it was. "And you would prove remarkably difficult to damage magically. Another benefit of inoculation with High Magic. Ordinary magic has very little effect.

Sarah filed that nugget of information for later, but she was ready. She just had to ask one last thing. "Let's say I refuse to agree with you? What happens now? What happens to my friends?"

"Not free, for certain. Most likely, we ferry you through the back passage and keep you captive till our plans reach fruition. See? Such a hassle. Much easier to polish you off now."

"And my friends?"

"Unfortunately, same for the boy. Leverage against his father, you understand. The girl... well... tricky. Relation to young mistress Orianna... has certainly been helpful. We'll probably execute her as an example, sever the last tie to her old life and such."

"And you say you're not evil," scoffed Sarah, but every muscle in her body was tensed.

"Harsh, but efficient. Besides, with power like this..." she gestured at the flames around her, but stopped. The Fiendfyre was less robust than before, more red, less white. As they moved away from the floor, it had become more and more obvious. "...what in hell is..." she started, pointing her wand straight at Sarah.

But Sarah didn't give her time to finish. With a flick of her thoughts, a massive stone wall sprang up between them. With the focus she had been building up for the whole conversation, Sarah whipped around, leveled her wand and screamed, "_NOX MAXIMA!_"

She almost fainted in immediate weariness as the spell took its toll on her, but the effect on her was nothing to the effect on the room. For a split second, the flames whooshed away to the edges of the massive room, and Sarah could see that she stood on a platform a thousand meters above the floor level, curving like a parabola to the door below. A short distance from the door in either direction stood Orianna and Rory on one side, Albus and Claire on the other.

But Sarah did not even take the time to look at them, for the second she saw the edge of the platform, she dove off, arms spread like wings. But as the curve of the slope rushed up to meet her, a toboggan appeared beneath her chest, just as she had Required. Though there was no snow, the smooth stone of the room was as slick as ice, and Sarah was gaining momentum far, far too fast, and yet, much too slowly, for the Fiendfyre was already rushing in from the edges of the room, closing in on them quicker than Sarah could escape.

"ALBUS! RORY!" Sarah yelled, but she did not have time for explanations, nor did she think she'd be able to over the roaring of the spited Fiendfyre, rushing to catch up with them. Claire and Orianna hardly had time to figure out what was going on before Albus and Rory were sprinting away from them.

Sarah was hurtling down the hill much faster than she had envisioned, but even the Room of Requirement couldn't change the law of gravity. A curse flew over her head, so close that she could swear it singed her hair, but the overpowering smell of the Fiendfyre made it impossible to tell. The slope was bottoming out, and she was slowing down, though she was still rushing along like a lightning bolt.

Rory reached her first, a few hexes flying over her shoulder. With a fearsome and terrified scream, she dove through the air and slammed onto Sarah's back. Tears leapt to her eyes as the wind rushed out of her and her vision went temporarily black. When it returned, she could see nothing but the stunning white of Fiendfyre closing in on all sides, and a small figure running towards them. Albus dove as they reached him, but his timing was off, and he barely managed to grab the back of one of the runners, sending them into an uncontrollable spin. Albus hung on with a death grip as he was slammed against the ground, dragging along like a rag doll.

A flash of green illuminated the room for a moment, and Sarah could see the door in front of them, though it was disappearing in the blinding whiteness of Fiendfyre. Sarah wondered if she would even notice dying, she was already surrounded by pure white, and...

With a bang, the three of them slammed into the door to the Room of Requirement, bursting through it with a blast of Fiendfyre on their tails. The sled slammed into a banister nearly opposite the room, shattering it and sending Albus and Rory toppling down the stairs, definitely unconscious. Sarah was flung directly into a wall, smashing a few ribs, and probably collapsing a lung. The fire splashed around the hall, whipping at Sarah's face and down the abandoned halls, searching for magical traces to follow into the heart of the school. But Sarah would not let it. She couldn't even breathe, but she didn't need air for her thoughts.

_"I need nothing," _she thought. _"I need a vacuum. I need a vacuum of magic."_

And in an instant, that massive room was completely empty, and open to the school. Once again, Sarah had underestimated Physics, as the massive pressure of air rushing into the now empty Room of Requirement picked her up off the ground, pulling her and all of the Fiendfyre back into it like a terrible whirlpool. Desperately, Sarah swung her wand and the doors slammed shut and Sarah was hurled into them, a meter above the ground. But to the Fiendfyre, the doors were no boundary, as they were sucked through the minute cracks at the floor and ceiling and seams, and through the material itself. And through Sarah.

The fire seemed to tear through her body, she could feel herself collapsing inside like paper ripping. It wasn't even painful, it was death. The fire was ravaging her body, her soul. It whirled around her for a half-second of eternity, and was gone.

Sarah fell to the ground, and slumped forward as the world went black. But at least, she thought as she lost conscious, it wasn't white.


	19. Chapter 19

Sarah woke slowly, with the impression of curtains and cold metal all around her. Sometimes she felt like she had been awake for hours, staring at the ceiling. Sometimes she felt like she had opened her eyes just a moment ago. She was probably slipping in and out of conscious, she reasoned. The room did seem to change lighting every time she opened her eyes. Every once in a while, she thought she saw someone she knew streaking by, leaving a trail of lights behind them. But slowly, things started to resolve, the lights began to vanish, and she sat up.

Professor Elihphile was sitting on a chair next to her bed, looking grim. His beard was large and untrimmed. "Sarah," he asked. "Can you talk?"

She didn't know, she realized. Her tongue felt a little swollen, but it probably worked fine. "I think so," she said. "Or, now I know so." She laughed at her joke, but the Headmaster remained ominously silent.

"Miss Dursley," he started. "What would you say if I told you that your friends, Albus and Rory are dead?"

Sarah felt her gut clench, and her face slowly begin to droop, the feeling of despair, confusion, and grief, dripping down her body like cold water. "I...I...what? They're not! I saw them, they were fine when they..." The room was going dark again, she was being enveloped in cold despair. She was sinking back against her bed unknowingly.

"Fear not, Miss Dursley, they are both alive and well."

Relief replaced despair. "Then...why...would you say..."

When she next woke, it was dark in the hospital wing, and she had a headache. There was a short note on the table by her bed explaining a few medications and when they were to be taken. She took a gulp of a nasty-smelling potion marked "For headaches" and went back to sleep, though she dreamt of having to eat rotten vegetables.

When she next woke, there was still an odd taste in her mouth and Professor Elihphile was on the edge of her bed, sporting Mutton Chops connecting into a mustache under his nose. "Good morning, Sarah," he said, smiling.

"Good morning Professor." She blinked, trying to distinguish the real from the fake. "Umm...Professor?"

"Yes, Sarah?"

"Albus...and Rory?"

"Are probably envying you right now. They are taking their last final. They should be done shortly."

Dual waves of relief crashed over Sarah. First, that her friends were alive and well, and second, that she probably was not going to have to take her last final. The two of them sat in silence for a minute. Professor Elihphile seemed a bit uncomfortable, which was strange on him.

"Professor," she asked. "If they weren't...well...dead, why would you even imply that they were?"

"It was merely a theoretical question, Sarah."

"Don't avoid the question, Professor. You know what you were implying there."

Professor Elihphile coughed. "Bold accusations, I remind you that you are just a first year, and that I..."

"You don't need to remind me," she replied. "Yes it's bold, but why skirt the issue?"

Professor Elihphile stared at her, as if unsure whether to be impressed or offended. To his credit, he seemed to settle on the former. "Before you understand my question, you must comprehend the true nature of Fiendfyre."

"Brista said it was High Magic, but she didn't really go into what it meant. Oh! Is she...?"

"Gone," replied Professor Elihphile. "Presumably alive, all three of them are too able of witches to not have some kind of escape plan. But back to the issue at hand."

"Fiendfyre."

"Exactly. It is one of the most dangerous spells on the planet, because magic itself is one of the most dangerous...things...on the planet." It was odd seeing him struggling for words. Perhaps even he didn't understand what was going on. He brought his hand up, as if to stroke his beard, but was disappointed. He seemed to have hair everywhere except his chin. It was a rather unfortunate arrangement.

"Sometimes, in calm, controlled environments like this, where everyone has spent their entire lives studying how to tame the wild forces that Muggles call "Magic", we forget it's dangerous origins."

"Origins of Magic?"

"A lengthy and highly theoretical discussion I would not care to engage in right now. The implications are so dramatic it might overshadow the conversation at hand, which is more immediately important." Sarah nodded. "I'm sure you would be able to stay focused, but you must forgive my highly distracted nature."

"I forgive you, can we get to the main point?" asked Sarah. "Something about being so close to death has made me a little less patient about chitchat." She laughed, but was partially serious.

"I assure you, discussion about the origin of magic is far more than chitchat, and it is a conversation that we may need to have someday, but...yes...to the point." He coughed again and straightened his robes.

"Fiendfyre is a particularly dangerous magic because it is unrestrained, and, while it consumes magic, it does not stop at that. It can consume more than just..." he paused. He was having difficulty expressing his ideas.

"Sarah, you remember that Fiendfyre was one of the only things that could destroy a Horcrux, correct?"

"Yes, so she said. Why is that so important?"

"And you remember the items used to make Horcruxes?"

"Yes, yes," she said impatiently.

"Do you think that such skilled young wizards and witches as Harry and the Weasley's would be unable to destroy a locket? A cup? Something as fragile as a living snake?"

"No. So you're saying that...the thing that protects the Horcrux..."

"Is the soul itself. As fragile as the soul can be, in a spiritual sense, when made material, it is one of the most unchanging and permanent things in this existence."

"And to destroy it..."

"Takes something as powerful, uninhibited, and evil as Basilisk Venom, or Fiendfyre."

He was right. There were interesting implications for magic, for religion, for philosophy and more. Dustin would probably be loving this conversation, but Sarah couldn't help but feel a grim, indistinct fear.

"So High Magic can destroy the soul?"

"It can. Some kinds can also...strengthen, or cure. There are many types of High Magic in this world. But Fiendfyre, yes it is of the destructive variety. In their arrogant folly, Brista and Claire thought to immunize themselves against Fiendfyre, but have only destroyed their own souls. Not completely at this juncture, but they are well on their way. The only reason they have not sunk into depravity is force of habit."

"And Orianna?"

Professor Elihphile seemed to think for a moment, though he could just be letting the warm afternoon sun wash away his thoughts. "Perhaps. She seems to be on the path. But there is a certain quality of young souls...an elasticity, a resilience...a built-in margin for error. I do not think that she is completely lost. I may be wrong, but I would rather see my faith confirmed when possible and disappointed when not than to accept everything with a pessimistic stoicism."

Sarah looked down at her hands. The hospital gown she wore had very long sleeves, they covered her hands completely, but it was soft against her skin. She didn't feel any pain either, Madam Pomfrey must have fixed up all the burns.

She was beginning to see why Professor Elihphile had pretended her friends were dead.

"When you told me that Albus and Rory might be dead, were you just looking for my reaction?"

"You have come to the answer yourself. I always find that is much more memorable. Yes, Sarah. I was afraid that, in your weakened, nearly unconscious state, the fire worn not only against your body, but against your soul. But the empathy I saw, the pain in your eyes...it was not faked. You are, in a spiritual sense, whole."

Sarah laughed. It probably wasn't supposed to be funny, but she laughed nonetheless. Maybe it was just relief that all of her immediate concerns had been cleared up, maybe the medicine was making her loopy, but for some reason, she laughed. "I'll be sure to tell my priest," she replied. "He'll be glad to know."

Professor Elihphile sniffed. "You are being sarcastic I presume. But I accept that. One day you will find your own way to deal with matters of the soul."

"I'm sorry," she said after a few seconds, though still through chuckles. "I don't know what I'm thinking right now. Everything is a bit overwhelming." She had a question earlier, but couldn't quite remember. She remembered why she had come upon the thought though.

"Brista said...that I was a lot like her. That we weren't fundamentally different."

"No one is fundamentally different Sarah. Only what we become."

Sarah felt like she should probably take a minute to chew it over, but she couldn't bring herself to be interested in the abstracts right now when she didn't even understand the concretes. But he continued. "However, I detect that she was merely talking about results, or the fact that you are both immune to Fiendfyre."

"Yeah, I got that vibe."

"As it turns out, she couldn't be more wrong. This is a time where though the results are identical, the circumstances change everything. To make a metaphor: two men get in a good scrape, one defending the honor of his family, the other trying to prove his dominance, and continue to bully. They both end up beat up and bloodied, but only one is worthy of praise."

Sarah nodded slowly. Professor Elihphile did seem to avoid the questions. She couldn't figure out if that was in his personality, or he was afraid of telling her too much. "The circumstances relating you and Brista are similar. Though you are both immune to Fiendfyre, it is for opposite reasons. Brista's body is protected from Fiendfyre by experience and immunization, like yours. But her soul is immune to Fiendfyre because it has been hardened and withered to a stale pit. What little of it exists is so mean and battered that even Fiendfyre cannot damage it."

"And...and my soul?"

"Is the opposite. Your soul has been scorched by the Fiendfyre, and grown to be immune to it because your soul is, unlike theirs, so innocent, strong, and pure that Fiendfyre cannot damage it. She is immune because there is nothing left to harm. You are immune because your soul is incorruptible. So truly, you are similar in that Fiendfyre cannot harm you, but for opposite reasons."

Sarah bit her lip, but there was a flaw in that logic that she had to point out. "But there are plenty of pure, innocent people who Fiendfyre and Basilisk Venom have killed. I can see what makes me different from Brista. What makes me different from them?"

"I wondered the same thing myself. This is why, when you came to my office, under the corruption of Fiendfyre and losing your pure innocence, I looked into your background first. The reason you had such an affinity with it, and an immunity to it, was because of your prior contact. When you were very young you were caught in a Fiendfyre. Your father heroically rescued it before it could damage your body, and your youth prevented it from damaging your soul. The very young are almost impossible to corrupt, until around eight. Because of this incident, your soul developed a kind of spiritual antibody to Fiendfyre, which protected you the next time you encountered it."

Sarah almost wished he would slow down, there was so much to think about. This was the first time in recent memory that anyone had talked to her about spiritual concepts as if they were real, as if they were relevant. Sure, she'd go to church on Easter and Christmas and all, but to have this kind of stuff matter? In her mind, Magic and Religion had always been in two completely separate realms, and this combination was making her think too much. Of course, the same thing had probably happened to her Uncle Harry when...but no, she needed to focus on the situation at hand.

"Oh! One more question. What happened outside? I guess I can assume you put it out, or at least controlled it, since the school is still standing."

"Ah, yes, also thanks to you incidentally. With your warning, Professor Antiok brought in some..." Professor Elihphile wrinkled his nose. "...connections. While I may not agree with their personal morality, Antiok did convince them to help the school, so I suppose I cannot complain. He was also the first to realize the forest fire was a distraction. He alerted me and the two of us returned to the school, to find Miss Zyther unconscious but stable, and Mister Potter attempting to climb up a two story flight of steps despite four broken ribs and a shattered shoulder."

"Hah, wow," replied Sarah. "Did...did he make it far?"

"Not especially. But the three of you were not there for long. As a matter of fact..." he trailed off, for Madam Pomfrey was bustling in from the door. As she approached, she whispered something in Elihphile's ear.

"Ah," he said in understanding. "I think I will be leaving you now Sarah, you have some other guests who probably would like some attention." Scratching his muttonchops, he arose. "This really was a dreadful choice of facial hair," he muttered as he left. The door to the hospital wing opened, but it was outside of Sarah's view. It closed again. A few seconds passed, and Sarah couldn't quite tell if anyone had come in. They were being awfully quiet if they had. But no, the door opened again, and, more true to her friends' form, it sounded like a stampede had broken through the doors. Maybe even the walls.

Albus and Rory were first around the curtain to her bed, followed by James, Rose, Carter, Marcus and Cassandra Westfold, pushing and shoving each other like crazy to be the first to see her. Dustin was next, and her parents, Dudley and Kate, as well as Fred, Victoire, and Teddy. Hagrid and Professor Orgill took up the back, though even Gregory Goyle was lurking behind them, embarrassed but happy.

Every one of them seemed to want to tackle her in a huge hug against the bed, but they restrained themselves, to Sarah's surprise. She wasn't sure she would have minded. She wasn't in any pain. "Sarah!" they all roared at various times.

"Albus! Rory! Everyone!" she replied.

"Are you alright?" asked her mother. "Are you hurt?"

"Sarah! I'm sorry we weren't there to help you, I could have..." started her father, but before she could reply to either of them, she was interrupted.

"You were so awesome!" exclaimed Albus. "Hurtling down that hill on a toboggan! How did you even think of that?"

"And putting out all the Fiendfyre!" added Rory.

"And sneaking out of the Common Room during an emergency," said Dustin, surprised by his sister's nerve.

"Under my supervision," added Victoire, but her admonition was masked by a smile.

"Not as awesome as Marcus jumping out of that window!" replied Sarah, turning the attention away from herself. Marcus blushed furiously and scowled at her.

Cassandra grabbed his arm and patted his hand. "My little brother is very brave," she said, using her twelve minute age advantage to the fullest. Marcus wrinkled up his face and pulled his arm away from her grasp.

"We can't forget your amazing acting, Cass," interjected Rose.

"Or your levitation!"

The self-congratulation and admiration went on for a few minutes as they all caught up, ending as Teddy Lupin succinctly added, "You did good, Sarah." Victoire seemed to think this was a very admirable sentiment for him to have, for she sighed romantically and leaned against him.

"I'm going to be seeing all of you during the holidays, right?" asked Sarah.

"My dad already managed to hook Rory's grandma's house up to the Floo Network," boasted Albus. Rory blushed, but nodded. Carter and the Westfolds turned out to live in the same neighborhood, so it wouldn't be hard to visit them every once in a while. Dudley and Harry had been catching up too, and had planned a few family visits.

Sarah's happiness was overflowing. "Come on everyone," she said finally, unable to contain herself. "I want a big hug." But everyone seemed to shrink back. "What's wrong?" she asked. "I'm not in pain, you know." She held up her arms to illustrate the point. Her hands were still covered by the extremely long sleeves, but she saw the tip of her middle finger sticking out. It looked different somehow.

Sarah looked up at the crowd assembled in front of her. They all looked profoundly uncomfortable. James had his mouth open like he was trying to say something, but couldn't think of what. Something must be wrong, if even James Potter couldn't banter.

Slowly, Sarah pulled back her sleeve. The back of her hand was covered in brownish-gray scars weaving an intricate, flame-like pattern up her arm. Her skin was still smooth, soft as always; it was as if she had a complicated, faded tattoo. Her other arm was the same. Sarah suddenly realized her head felt odd, as if she had just had a haircut.

"Get me a mirror," she said coolly. Her friends looked among themselves, but despite the tone, it was a command. Teddy hurried up to the sink in the corner and lifted the mirror off the wall. Wincing, he held it up to Sarah.

Her face too, was covered in scars, the same dim color as the ones on her arm. The wavy lines ran across her neck and up her face, almost like a zebra. The scars weren't as pronounced as they had been when she was addicted to Fiendfyre, but now they covered her whole body. Her hair too, was nearly destroyed. Someone had cut off wherever it was scorched, leaving her with uneven, spiky hair of length varying from a few inches to her normal length.

Sarah opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say. She was interrupted by an explosion of consolation and reassurance from her friends and family.

"It doesn't even look that bad,"

"You're still beautiful!"

"Your hair will really be quite fashionable, once it grows out a little,"

"And the Professor Elihphile said the scars will fade with time, who knows if you'll even be able to see them?"

"And anyone who cares, I'll round up a couple of my Auror buddies to give them a talking to!" That one was Teddy Lupin.

"We men, we're all so shallow, we just want someone distinctive..." James, obviously.

Sarah held up her hand, and the tide stopped.

"I...I..." she stuttered. "I think I'll be okay. Just give me a little...a little time." She wanted to keep looking, get used to her new appearance, but the mirror was heavy, and Teddy was starting to strain to hold it in front of her face, so she looked away.

"At least you have a cool story for yours," grumbled Marcus, indicating the birthmark splashed across his mouth. Interestingly, that was what comforted Sarah the most.

Soon, Madam Pomfrey insisted that Sarah be left alone. After much argument, she relented and let two people at a time visit her. Her parents were first to visit. They fretted over her for a few minutes, despite the fact that all the danger had already occurred. When they finally got this into their heads, they were so glowing and proud that they almost embarrassed her. But none of her friends were in there with her, so she didn't complain.

Albus and Rory were next. They told Sarah their stories of confrontation: Albus with Claire, and Rory with Orianna. Theirs were similar, and much less interesting. Apparently, the witches had decided that Sarah was the only one worth explaining things too. Claire and Orianna had mostly just informed Albus and Rory that they were going to be held as prisoners, and that they were waiting for Brista to talk with Sarah.

Albus seemed pretty nonchalant about his encounter, but Rory was hesitant and nervous, leading Sarah to believe she was leaving some things out. Rory's refusal to meet Sarah's eyes confirmed the fact. But Sarah would have none of it. She grabbed Rory's shoulder, looked right into her eyes and stated firmly: "Rory. Whatever she said about you, it's not true." Rory sniffed, but nodded after a second or two. There was pain in her eyes, but Sarah resolved to banish it over the summer.

The Rose wanted to visit too, and Carter and the Westfolds, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have it. As it turned out, everyone was headed home later that day, and she insisted that Sarah needed rest before her big journey on the Hogwarts Express. So for the last half hour before she was officially on holidays, Sarah sat in the hospital bed. Her parents had already packed up all her belongings, so she just had to walk down to the train, but she was stuck here. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't even let her have a mirror because studying her appearance might distress her, and that wasn't beneficial to the healing process. She had to content herself with studying the new patterns snaking up her arms.

But soon enough, it was time to leave. Sarah waved goodbye to the school as she descended to the train platform. She had a near armada of friends and family protecting her from the jostling students, not that she needed it. They got her safely into the train, then split off to their own compartments. As per the tradition, Albus and Rory were with Sarah.

The three of them didn't really talk much. It was enough to simply be alive, and be with friends. The glow of the setting sun illuminated their compartment like a campfire. Rory looked absolutely gorgeous, thought Sarah, as she examined her own disfigured arms. But she had never really been one for self-pity, and was simply happy for her friends.

In the coming years, the she remembered three things from that ride back. The light playing through Rory's hair, illuminating the few freckles that had begun to appear on her face over the course of the year was the first memory. The second was Albus, falling asleep in the warm sun, his mouth partially open. He looked like such a child that Sarah could hardly believe that the three of them had been in mortal danger just a few days ago.

The third was a short conversation. Albus, upon awakening, posed the question. "So do you think Claire and the others are alive?"

Sarah nodded. "Professor Elihphile told me that he's nearly certain they are."

Albus took a minute to consider that. "What are the chances we're going to see them again?"

"Pretty high," sighed Rory. "If I know my sister, she's not giving up, and she's carrying out a personal vendetta now." She looked quite depressed for a minute, until a thought seemed to strike her. "But you know what? We don't know where she is now, and I think we'll be fine over the summer. These are our holidays, and we should enjoy them."

Sarah smiled warmly. "I couldn't agree more," she said, as the train bumped along the track, taking them on to a wonderful summer holiday.

**Well, this story is technically over, but I might have one more chapter for you, if you'd like it. Tell me in reviews!**


	20. Chapter 20

**So, this is the epilogue, the addendum, the post script. It's short, but I hope you like it!**

For the first time in its centuries of service, the lock to the Headmaster's office popped open without his permission. A little bit of jiggling and a swear or two later, the door yielded as well, and three witches stepped into the office. It was night, and the portraits lining the walls were sleeping, their collective snores creating a gentle hum, like a lazy beehive.

"Brista," said the tallest witch. "You'll scrub the magical background? I'm sure one of these paranoid wizards installed intruder alarms somewhere. They might record us, even if they're deactivated." But she didn't have to explain, the black-haired witch was already sweeping her wand through the air. "Orianna," continued the woman, "Get the hat. Make sure it doesn't scream. I'm going to have a look through some files."

The youngest witch tiptoed over to the massive bookshelf. She looked determined, though there was a hint of uncomfortable fear in her eyes. She gazed up to the ragged, burnt hat sitting in a glass bell jar on top of the bookshelf. She still had her wand in her hand from when she entered the room, but she looked at it doubtfully.

"No more magical evidence that we were here than is absolutely necessary," Claire had reminded them before they entered. So Orianna just dragged over a tall stool, and stood on that. She reached out to lift the jar, but paused, her hands hovering over the glass. She told herself that she was just afraid of the glass carrying some kind of nasty enchantment, but after an inhalation, she lifted it without any further precautions.

The Sorting Hat opened its eyes and turned to Orianna. "Ah," it said calmly. "Miss Zyther the Elder. I cannot say I am surprised to see you here. Though I suspect I may be wrong, I hope that you have only come to ask about my verdict?"

"No!" she hissed, checking the other two over her shoulder. They were still involved busily in their tasks.

"I understand, but I cannot help but wonder... You are a talented witch, the question then and now is in which direction you will direct that potential. I saw that in your sister as well, she was even more difficult than you in her own way..." He could probably go on like this for hours, Orianna realized. She didn't have hours though. Professor Elihphile was overseeing the End-of-Term Feast, but he would be back shortly. And that wasn't even mentioning Brista and Claire.

"Shut it!" she muttered. "I don't care about my sister."

The hat sighed. "Yes. Yes, I know. That, I suppose, was one of the final factors in my decision. Even for Slytherins, empathy is an important characteristic. If you cannot relate to your own family..." but their conversation was interrupted.

"Having fun?" asked Claire almost nonchalantly, though there was a hint of venom in her voice. She was watching the two of them, a few files under her arm. "Get it down here, so we can set it up for retrieval later."

"Later?" asked Brista. "I thought we were taking it now!"

"No. We have had enough publicity for this year, thanks to your failure to contain the only witnesses."

Brista opened her mouth to retort angrily, but Claire shot her a look. It was a calm glance, but something about it terrified Brista, for she hunched over and shrunk back, like a beaten dog. Claire began to poke at the hat with her wand. The hat stared back indifferently. Occasionally, it would give Orianna a meaningful glance, though she couldn't figure out what it was trying to say.

Brista was all but cowering in the corner, and Orianna felt that someone had to figure out what was going on. "Won't the hat talk? Tell Professor Elihphile we were here?"

"No," muttered Claire, stroking her wand down the back of the hat, "This hat is a very funny little object. It has a strange sense of purpose that's hard for normal people to comprehend. The founder's imbued it with a certain...foresight. Normally, it just uses it to judge students, but it can give warnings too, as you probably noticed. I think it knew this was coming, and the fact that it hasn't already informed the Headmaster is a fairly good indicator that it isn't going to."

"Hmm," replied Orianna. "It just seems more complicated than it needs to be. Leaving it here is risky."

"Every moment we hold it is risky. They can track powerful, old magic artifacts, the less time we spend with it in our possession the better. Besides, I can't do anything with it right now. I'm going to need to spend more time researching before I really try to..." She straightened. Her work was done. "...break in." She winked malisciously at the hat, which returned her gaze unaffected. "Put it back, Orianna," she intoned softly. "Brista, come on. Let's go."

Orianna grabbed the hat with unnecessary haste and put it back on the shelf, trying not to meet its eyes, or the folds where they would be. By the time she got down and carefully replaced the stool, the other two had already left.

"The door will lock behind you," said Claire from the entrance, "So make sure you haven't left any evidence."

Orianna gave the room a quick sweep, but it appeared the same as it had a few minutes ago. She made to close the door, but the hat interrupted her.

"It could have been different, you know," it said softly. Through the glass of the bell jar, Orianna wasn't even sure she had heard right. She made a soft noise of what was supposed to be disgust, and closed the door.

**Well that's it for Sarah's first year. Now I have a problem though. I really need to spend more time working on my own stuff instead of fanfiction, because as fun as this is, and as much as I love and appreciate all of you for reading it, I need original material. I'll try to continue with Sarah's story at Hogwarts, I promise this one is only scratching the surface, but my updates might not be as regular. Put me on Author Alert just in case though, and send me lots of encouragement :P**


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